Wonderland
by Milarca
Summary: Powerless and alone, Kirk is thrust into the Mirror Universe. Spock seizes command of the ship, and her former captain. Domination is crucial, disobedience is unthinkable, and James T. Kirk is not going down without a fight. h/c, bdsm. -on hold-
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Because this has waited far too long.

**Warnings/Info**: K/S Slash, H/C, BDSM (Master/Slave, bondage) physical and mental torture, language. Rated M.

**Summary:** Powerless, Kirk is thrust into the Mirror Universe, alone, and without hope. Spock takes advantage of the mishap, seizing command of the ship, and her former captain. Domination is crucial, disobedience is unthinkable, and James T. Kirk is not going down without a fight.

* * *

**Wonderland**

_I'm freaking out, where am I now?_  
_Upside down and I can't stop it now_  
_Can't stop me now_

_**ISS **__**Enterprise**_

"Energizing."

Spock was called down to the transporter room on account of a malfunction and caught the words just as he entered. He assumed it was nothing serious, just a glitch in the programming or a faulty wire. They would have it fixed, or suffer the consequences. He stood observing their efforts, occasionally giving instruction and keeping order. He knew humans of all species needed a firm hand.

Soon, soft electricity began to swirl and the Captain re-emerged after an exactly 3.5 minute disappearance.

Why, when the odds were so heavily against it and the Captain was the one beaming up, the transporter broke, Spock would never know. Despite the fact that it _had_ occurred, his mind was at rest because he had also left room for the occasional mishap. And, factoring in James T. Kirk's gravitational pull to all things out of the ordinary, Spock was hardly surprised.

To his dismay, it was the Captain's _entrance_ that surprised him, for instead of the cocky sneer and hardened posture so particular of the military man, this person was smiling and relaxed.

"Spock, you were right, this was a—"

The man, their Captain, stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening fractionally and his posture going stiff.

Spock heard Kirk's heartbeat climb much too fast, and he could almost see the human's mind working as he opened and closed his mouth; trying and failing to act like nothing was amiss when, obviously, it was. Kirk's eyes pierced everyone in the room as he quickly sought to gain ground in unfamiliar territory.

And though Spock was aware of the minute changes in Kirk's demeanour, he did not act upon them. No, Spock did what protocol demanded and sharply saluted the confused Captain. Kirk only looked more uncomfortable, and clenched his jaw in unease.

"At norm, Mr. Kyle. Controls at neutral." Spock said to the technician after the salute, his eyes firmly on the human, clearly lost and still wavering on the edge of pad.

"Yes, Sir."

Spock noted that Kyle hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Not that human observation – or lack thereof – was proof against his blossoming theory.

"Status of mission, Captain?" Spock said quietly to what was almost certainly _not_ his captain. He was acutely aware of Kirk's answers, and everything he did; cataloguing it for future reference.

Something was off.

The magnitude of which, he could not ignore. Not when the implications of such a thing could possibly benefit him. Him, or another, one and the same as far as he was concerned. He was simply not sure if the benefit to himself would go beyond what had already taken place.

"No change," Kirk said, his voice holding only a quarter of the power Spock was used to hearing. It sounded light, breezy, and susceptible to objection. He did a remarkable job of hiding that from the other crewmen, though; _they_ were all still as oblivious as humans _could_ be.

"Standard procedure, Captain?" Spock inquired with relatively more of the usual calm.

Spock wanted to keep Kirk in the dark about his realization and the implications for as long as possible, though his mind spun with gleaming rewards and the payoff he would have never even thought possible. Could the one time, out of hundreds every day, the _captain_ used the transporter, it would break and something like this would occur? But here, he saw it had happened, and accepted that fact quickly.

This new captain seemed weak; frail. He would not last on this ship, yet he was a perfect copy of the original. Would it stand up to scrutiny? _He _would take the captaincy and able to do what needed to be done, but the crew? His range of power, influence and authority was wide but would it hold?

He estimated bribery would come into play, but that was a small price to pay for this chance. This golden chance. He could save the one thing that mattered most. The one thing he would, if all worked out, never see _again._ Ready for those horrendously undesirable thoughts, he pushed them back. If _he _was safe… it was worth it.

Though he kept this all to himself and went around to the instrument panel. Despite the fault being to his fortune, he did need to analyse it. Not being above mind-reading or control, he plucked at Mr. Kyle's mind. He quickly came to the conclusion that the lieutenant was to blame for the incident. And not that he really cared at this point; a tiny part of him wanted to promote the lieutenant, but keeping order was expected of him.

"Mr. Kyle, you were instructed to compensate during the ion storm. Is there a reason you did not?"

The lieutenant was suddenly struck by his mistake and the implications, "I— I tried—"

"Carelessness with the equipment cannot be tolerated." Spock reached for his command agonizer; one that when activated, initiated intense physical suffering in the mind of the closest in range. He clicked the button on top, set it to a relatively low setting, and looked up.

Mr. Kyle was backed up against the wall, his breathing accelerated.

"Please I—" His desperate pleas were turning into an impish whine.

"Do not beg, Mr. Kyle," Spock said sternly, "it is unbecoming of a man."

Kyle swallowed hard, straightening. Spock could see that strange emotion Terrans displayed; fear, shine in his eyes. The man did take it admirably though; he was waiting for the pain to come.

Finally, Spock pressed down gently on the small device and watched with a face as blank as an obsolete sheet of paper, as Kyle fell back against the wall and writhed in obvious anguish, moaning and crying out pitifully.

Spock did not pretend to enjoy this, but that was exactly it. He did not enjoy it but nor did he disagree with its place. It was a form of punishment and someone had to be there to administer it.

But being a Vulcan had its drawbacks, and Spock, once entered into the Academy and later in active duty, had come to learn to block all incoming thoughts and feelings from ones under the intense pain of the _agonizer_. He had perfected the art of blocking certain people and things from his sensitive telepathic range since then, and now felt only the awareness. He knew what they felt; even _he_ had felt the sting of punishment in the past, but it did not affect him as it once did. A strict Vulcan culture did not allow him to be affected.

The punishment over, he returned the device to the lieutenants' belt and let him sink to the ground, moaning. He turned back to the Captain and was only slightly surprised to see his face blank except for barely distinguishable pain in frosty blue eyes.

This admittance of anguish Spock had to admit he had only ever seen a few times, and all had been about lost opportunities and self-grievances. Never for another. How fascinating to be seeing it now, even if on an entirely different person.

"Captain," Spock said with just a touch of respect for the man he used to know, inclining his head.

"Ah, yeah—" Kirk shook his head, swallowing and came over to the transporter room door to join Spock. He took another long look at the Commander with the beard before turning his back.

Not a wise move when surrounded by those who wish you dead.

The sound of a phaser's fire was the last thing James Kirk heard before he crumpled to the floor.

Spock held the weapon loosely, flicking it back into its holster. The job was done.

The Captain now lay on the floor, to the disbelief of watching crew. His guard was nearby, dead. Spock hadn't seen need to keep the guard, but Kirk himself would wake within the hour.

The crew present looked on, stunned at what had just taken place. Spock said not a word to them or his own Vulcan guard. If all went well, the entire ship would react so. Sunned into silent obedience.

Humans could be quite interesting when given the chance, Spock thought with a twinge of regret. He would not be able to conduct a full-scale experiment on the matter of course, but he had something better in mind.

Kirk's eyelids flickered as he lay on the floor. Unconscious, and unaware that he was being taken prisoner by the one person he thought he trusted most. And now the matter of his life would be in very similar yet radically different hands. Hands that at that moment burned with desire. Hand that would in the future induce extremes of many kinds upon the young human entrusted to them.

But neither knew it just yet.

- X -

**Uninvited**

_Like any uncharted territory  
I must seem greatly intriguing_

_But you're not allowed  
You're uninvited_

The sound of boots in the corridor outside his cell sent Kirk to his feet and to the edge of the illuminated, transparent wall where he could face his persecutor directly. When it was Spock who appeared—no, it wasn't Spock, not _his_ Spock in any sense of the word—Kirk stiffened and glared at the Vulcan.

"Spock." Kirk said forcefully, turning to him. He was desperate for answers, and desperate to know _where_ he was and _how_ and _who _and-

"I will honour your station only once," Spock said in a forceful monotone, his brown, unemotional eyes just barely keeping Kirk's anger at bay. "But let me make it quite clear to you that you no longer hold the title or are in possession of the power accompanied by it." Spock held Kirk's eyes through the slightly glowing, humming force-field, conveying an utter lack of empathy for him.

"Captain Kirk." He said this with a finality that brought a feral glint to his eye and a dangerous upturning of his lip; a sneer.

"In the three hours and forty-seven minutes you have been aboard this ship I have come to the conclusion that you and our Captain have… switched bodies, for lack of a better phrase." A wry mockery of a grin slipped onto his face and Kirk twitched, unused to the display.

"I have taken the liberty of removing you from your 'command' seeing as it was never yours in the first place and have taken said command. Lieutenant Sulu is now my second and _you…_"

Kirk set his jaw, waiting for the ending to that sentence. It would never come.

"Spock, you gain nothing from keeping me here." Kirk spoke in his command tone, quiet and firm as if talking to a terrorist holding a hostage. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Allow me to return to my own time if I don't belong here. It's only—"

Kirk froze, a sudden supernatural grip holding his body paralyzed. His heart rate climbed instantaneously and he felt it pounding in his ears as he swallowed hard. He was no longer in control of anything but the most primary and automatic body functions. He could _feel_ with disturbing completeness the rest of his body, but it no longer responded to him. He shut his eyes tightly and his nose flared in rage. The slight twitch of Spock's mouth was then lost to Kirk.

"I am… regretful for your sake, Kirk, to have to do this." Spock turned to his left slightly and without moving his eyes, touched several keys on the cell control panel.

The flickering screen vanished and Kirk felt what seemed like unexplainable dread trickle its way down through his lungs and settle like a dead rabbit in his gut. Dark, beady eyes everywhere. Outside, inside; making his stomach shrivel in disgust.

The barrier removed, Spock had only to step into the cell to be face to face with Kirk.

Kirk glared at him.

Confused at the strange emotion coursing through him, it was effortless for Kirk to convey the frigid betrayal he felt through his intensely human gaze. He was not afraid. Simply amazed. At this person. This Vulcan he thought he knew. He hadn't even known Spock _capable_ of such mind control as he was displaying now, but here Kirk was, every single part of him frozen by the unseen force that all Vulcans apparently possessed.

He cursed himself for ever going on that mission. Alone. _At all._ The moment he transported it felt wrong. All wrong. This was not his ship, and this was not Spock. He had felt a link he hadn't known to be in the possession of, snap. Like a twig. A severed artery. He felt empty now, dark and cold.

Spock smiled faintly, now only inches from the Federation Captain. He examined those blue eyes, the only portion of Kirk's body allowed to show the sheer panic emanating from him.

It was simply fascinating the emotion humans could convey when practically everything had been taken from them.

Spock circled him, his boots practically silent on the patterned metal floor.

When Spock disappeared behind him, Kirk took a shaky breath and repressed a shudder.

"Your appearance here is of great advantage to me. I will not divulge details but in summary, you will stay here with me until certain arrangements have been made. You will obey orders directly from me until that time. If this is at all unclear, you may ask questions. But do not expect allowances to be made for disobedience. It will not be hard for you… _I_ will not make it hard for you… if you comply with these simple rules."

Though there was no intonation in the last sentence, the threat was clearly heard. If fully understood… was to be seen.

Spock felt the corner of his lip turn up, ever so slightly, at the prospect of this gangly Kirk in his possession. At _his _command. He knew nobody would question it if he presented himself as the stronger party, and simply took command.

And they hadn't.

The ship had come peacefully and without question. Situations like this happened all the time. He had sufficient funds to bribe the remaining crew not fully under his influence, which would certainly be necessary as the Captain did have a wide circle of support. What was in his favour was the knowledge that all human loyalty could be broken. Eventually.

"If you behave…" He whispered this in Kirk's ear, his sweet breath sickening Kirk, "you might even _enjoy_ yourself here."

Spock straightened and looked into Kirk's eyes. "But I see fear, Kirk."

Jim glowered into Spock's amused eyes, knowing what he said was to annoy him, yet... what made it painful was the absolute truth in his words; that scared him more than anything.

That soul-seeing power. He wished he had taken the time to understand it better; now that he was under its influence.

Kirk felt his head move to the left. His eyes widened in surprise as it moved of its own accord, back and forth again. Spock could not only hold him completely frozen, but he could control _his body? _He shuddered, trying desperately to get his body to listen to _him_. No such thing occurred to his mental struggles. It was like trying to levitate against gravity. To even try drained your energy, and filled Kirk with a heavy weight.

He was still forced to stand at _attention_ in front of this monster, a completely different person than the man he knew was now somewhere in space. Would he ever get back? He thought this with a dull confusion, as if were all a dream.

And what about his crew? In their time. If he was here, what would this Kirk be doing on _his_ ship? With _his_ Spock? He tiredly swallowed back bile that left a remnant, disgusting taste in his mouth.

Stepping out of the boundaries of the cell, Spock tapped the control pad once more and simultaneously let Kirk go of his binding mind control.

Kirk gulped in relief but let none of it show. He concealed all that he felt and lifted his chin in defiance, his eyes cold.

"Your silence is commendable, Jim."

Kirk's lip twitched at the ghostly noise.

He hissed a curse word in the Vulcan's own language just before the door to the brig slid shut. And then Spock was gone. Leaving Kirk alone. Again. Only this time it was a silent aloneness filtered with whispers of the devil twirling gleaming webs of bitter pain and the image of a future so dark and vast Kirk was left alone in the silence of his own mind.

- X -

Hours later, Spock came again. He simply stared into the cell, and Kirk had no choice but to endure.

Kirk had to admit, the phenomenon was one that he had never seen; even coming from the harsh Vulcan. Far from the man who had saved his life countless times, gone on countless missions with and he _thought_ he knew like the ship he _used_ to run, this Spock was the very image of cold disdain. The traces of a bitter sneer touched his lips at the moment as he quite obviously looked his cruel green nose down at Kirk.

The human realized this was a contemplative look; Spock was critically observing (as was the key word) his every motion. The only thing moving were his eyes as they followed him like a separate entity unto themselves. No suspicion or anger were present, no matter what a human from this time would probably feel, in Spock they were absent. Absent from his ever logical and rational mind, the inconveniences of emotion were.

Feeling more hurt than he had been since entering this world, this _mirror _universe, and knowing that the eyes of his friend now looked down upon him like he was no more than an alien captive, sent Kirk to the ground. He lowered himself to crouch on his toes and fold his hands in front of him, facing the middle of the cell. He wanted to be able to see Spock at all times because he in no way trusted the Vulcan, but not so in a direct way. He would go insane if that were the case. He would carefully block the world out; this was as human a defence as he could conjure without reverting to completely animalistic ways and what years in first the Academy and then the cold reality of space had taught him.

But he was not a Vulcan, and when put on the table beside _Spock's_ endurance, his barely held its own. He felt exhaustion creep up on him; the past several hours taking their toll along with the absence of food that was creeping into his belly like a worm.

He was therefore unprepared for Spock to suddenly be at the control panel, inputting something quicker that Kirk could process. He shot to his feet just as the Vulcan stepped back from the control panel to the left of Kirk's cell. The power was cut with no more than the absence of its light buzzing and then nothing was there to keep Spock from coming at Jim with frightening speed.

"Spock, Spock..." Jim said with a terrified shake to his voice that had not been there before, backing up until he hit the hard metal wall. He was surprised he was already cornered as his hands felt the coolness of metal behind them.

Thankfully, _he_ was no coward and even such a twisted version of his friend would not send him to hysterical pleas even if his life depended on it.

Unfortunately, this not being the desired position Spock wanted him in, the Vulcan quickly grabbed Kirk's shoulder and pulled it around in a hard arc that spun the human's body to the right. This manoeuvre ended with Kirk's face slamming into the wall with a fraction less than the force necessary to shatter bone.

"_Fuuuuuuuuck...!"_ The cry Kirk emitted in surprise turned into a moan of pain as electric impulses caught up to him and shot to every single part of him that had been twisted or pulled or _jerked _more than were meant to. His body screaming at him was a hard thing to endure, but Kirk managed by the skin of his teeth to bite down _hard_ on his lip to keep the tears from his eyes and the sobs from his throat.

Spock pushed only a fraction of his weight onto the human and felt with evil satisfaction Kirk's strangled whimper of pain at the staggering force. Spock relished in the exited presence of the struggling human under him with cold satisfaction.

He did not lessen the pressure he placed on Kirk's shoulder as he wrenched the human's other arm from where it had been pressed to the wall to steady himself.

_"Oof!"_ Kirk was pushed once again into the wall, this time with his face flat against it. Without acknowledging the pain he was causing, Spock roughly took both of Kirk's hands behind his back, pinning them together with one hand.

He allowed himself a moment to breathe. He didn't need the oxygen; his body was hardly warm from the exertion.

Kirk took strained, quick breaths and Spock could tell he was grinding his teeth. He was tense. Only a second passed and Kirk seized Spock's inaction by bucking against him. Spock reacted a tenth of a second after, hauling Kirk away from the wall to slam him back. Kirk cried out but was ultimately silent as Spock ground his body into the wall, harder than before.

He whimpered, the force knocking his body numb. As Spock shifted his hand that held both of his captive's, Kirk felt tears come to his eyes. Spock's warm hands held his tightly together, holding him still and _his._

The clink of a pair of handcuffs and the snap of their activation startled Kirk for the second it took for Spock to slip them into place around either of his wrists. The cold metal met his warm skin with an electric pang of discomfort. Kirk squirmed, the cold mist of his situation seeping under his skin. the heavy moisture in his eyes returned just before Spock released all pressure and let him drop back down to his own feet.

Kirk hesitated, on the brink of relaxing his shoulders. He twisted his hands slightly, hearing the soft humming of the handcuffs and the icy rings around his wrists. He slumped in frustration.

When a hand touched his shoulder he jumped around, his heart rate increasing once again.

Spock left him no time for recognition or thought for action, swiftly moving to the side to grab his shoulder and push down with the force of a race far stronger than his own. The incredible weight was too much, and Kirk buckled. His right knee _slammed_ into the metal floor, sending a thunderous jolt of fire to rip through his leg.

_"Ahhhhhhhhh! God dammit fucking-"_

He screamed suddenly, the high-pitched wail of agony that echoed in the small chamber for what seemed like an eternity. An unexpected pain shot down his shoulder as his other knee gave out. The hard floor hit the other knee with an impact that burst his nerves like fireworks. He only whimpered this time, holding in the most of what he felt by bowing his head and grinding his teeth.

With Spock's hand still gripping his shoulder, Kirk's breathing became laboured and frantic as he fought the loosing game of control. Without thinking, he attempted to rise but felt a quick, jarring slap of pain shoot through his core.

His whine at the sharp, unexpected reprimand turned into a growl of pain and humiliation. He stopped struggling and immediately felt the cold sweat and shaking his body was currently exhibiting.

It took him several seconds to finally submit. His body shook minutely with exertion and he took deep, shuddering breaths through a mouth twisted in misery.

"Stay." The calm order issued by Spock was said in the tone of disciplining a disobedient dog and the outright offense Kirk felt was significantly mulled by his complete shock that it had been said in the first place. His features twisted into a snarl of defiance as his self-proclaimed 'handler' came into sight.

"You bastard." Kirk spat, showing his canines and tensing to the point where his muscles rippled under his shirt and he shifted in agitation at the confinement. He clenched his fists behind his back in a subconscious attempt at freedom, but nothing would break their hold, he knew with bitter certainty. He lifted his chin to match Spock's stance, even if he was several feet lower than the Vulcan, his chest rising and falling with steady rhythm.

"I surmised I was taking on a challenge when I selected _you_, Jim, but I had no inclination that you would make it so... interesting."

Now _that_ offended him. Kirk's eyes flashed and he flexed his jaw to keep himself from uttering a retort.

Spock cocked his head and looked almost as if he wanted to shake his head at the wilfulness of a child. There was something in those eyes. Kirk's eyes. It licked at him and smoothed his expression to that of a blank slate. Though fire made it exiting, too much of it was unhealthy for a human.

Without so much as twitching, Spock was suddenly the precipitator of a deep trickle of agony._ Pure_ and _deep_ and _sickening._

But it was in such a fine form Kirk did not notice it right away, though he soon did.

It started as numbness in his toes and fingers, and then started hissing and jumping around in his veins like electrodes intent on escaping his fragile form. Kirk paled, the anger and blood slipping from his face like dripping rain.

In an instant, he felt horribly betrayed. Not betrayed by the sorry excuse for a creature in front of him. But by life as a whole. What had he done to the world to deserve this? The growing nausea, the _pain?_ Why was Spock _doing_ this?

He had no answers, and a gnawing ache had buried itself in his stomach, growing out to his spine, and arms, and head… pounding, more, _more_…

Kirk sobbed and then swayed. He felt the pounding, and, like a deck of cards, collapsed to the floor, his hands still bound inexorably behind his back.

Waves of fast, hot pangs of anguish rippled through him with unimaginable fluidity. It seemed like every part of him was on fire. He screamed; one intense _scream_ of loss and agony. _Lost,_ _lost, lost. _Convulsing. _Pain._

_STOP!_

His eyes were welded shut under the enormous pressure of pain. He found it hard to breathe, so opted for short gasps, perforated by held breaths and clenched teeth. Tense all over, Kirk's body reacted to something it could not control nor understand. Such a combination was a terrible thing to feel, Kirk knew then.

He sobbed again, arching his back once as a particularly cruel surge flooded him. His body was wracked with short, deep sobs and covered with a fine sheen of sweat that met the barren floor with freezing sting.

When he felt nothing could ever be worse than this, the pain stopped. Tears ran from Kirk's eyes, down his face, and onto the icy, uncomfortably rough floor. Making himself calm down, Kirk took a few shaky, grateful breaths.

He was terribly sorry. For what? He didn't know. Sorry for himself. Sorry for Spock. And there was a twinge in his heart that made him sniffle in desperation and close his eyes tiredly. Squeeze them shut, more like, when he heard the dulled _scuff-thud_, _scuff-thud, scuff-thud _of boots on metal.

Worn and beaten, Kirk gulped but did not cringe when he heard Spock go around to the back of his head. The Vulcan was so close he could have kicked Kirk and killed him right there. Of course he wouldn't. And what would Kirk care anyway? Every sense he was granted was significantly dulled as his body started to _try_ to repair itself. He heard ringing in his ears, saw blackness because his eyes were closed, smelt nothing because of the mucus and tears coating his throat, blocked out what he felt because the pull of cuffs on his hand really wasn't that pleasant to experience, and tasted the bitter fuzzy feeling on his tongue that he had only ever had the pleasure of tasting several times on account of his being rather wild the night before.

The combined effect of the dull sensitivity the human was experiencing made for a slow reaction when Spock knelt down and slipped something hard and cool on human skin onto Kirk's chin.

Jim felt something take hold of his jaw, holding it fast.

"_Ah!"_ Kirk exclaimed, arching his back and squirming away from Spock. In a flash, a firm hand had his shoulder and had wrenched it around so his face slammed—_again_—into the hard floor.

Kirk moaned into the floor and felt a hand pressing into the back of his head. Shortly after, a sharp jerk to whatever it was around his head made him grind his teeth. He felt the painful pressure of a knee pressing into his shoulder blades and the ache of his chest digging into the floor. Cool hands were on his head, pressing a hard piece of something to the back of his head.

Kirk suddenly felt the need to jerk his head away. The thing all around his head made him feel trapped and uncomfortable, and was pulling his mouth shut by his chin. Kirk endured in growing misery this treatment; Spock's hands pulling a strap over his head and _pulling it, snapping_ it _tightly_ down. Then, the pressure on his back ceased and he was aware of the immobility of his jaw. But he didn't test it. He didn't want to know. After a long moment, he experimentally worked his jaw, but couldn't. He twisted his body and felt his hands still tightly bound.

Unexpectedly, terror griped Kirk and he felt suddenly horrified. He whined into the mask that covered his mouth and lock his jaw shut, squeezing his eyes closed. He was almost completely immobile and the sensation of _trapped _came over him like blood freezing solid in his veins. He was on the verge of hyperventilating, and a single word stopped him dead.

"_Up_, Jim."

What? _Up_. Up, what? In his state, his brain couldn't concentrate enough to understand the simple command. But that was what it was. A command, _another_ command _goddamn _it. He sighed, his whole body too weak to move.

But _too weak_ wasn't too weak for Spock, and as if things couldn't get any worse, _another_ surge of fire ripped through Kirk's body. This one was too quick for him to react violently to yet long enough to make him choke out a sob. Tears ran down his face as he struggled with overpowering emotion; he was _tired_, _how could Spock expect him to_… he dry heaved into the mask. The pain. The pain was starting to seep into his soul. He shuddered; he shuddered right down to his heart. _Cold_.

"_Up."_ Spock said again. But this time there was no mercy in his voice. It was hard, and unforgiving.

Kirk had no choice but to obey a voice like that. He was struck painfully by the feeling. His body was reacting despite the condition it was in. It knew—more than Kirk knew—that if it _didn't _comply… things would get a lot worse.

And so before Spock could think of hurting him again, Kirk found the strength to first push up his upper body, then use his legs get himself on his feet. He wobbled slightly, and sucked in a breath when his right foot sent a shock of pain through his leg. He stayed on his feet and took breaths to clear the pain. He rested his weight on his left leg, as the other seemed to be twisted or _something_. After all this, his entire body sagged and his eyes were huge and confused.

He really didn't know what to think anymore.

Unimaginably, Spock wasn't finished yet. He watched Kirk like this, watching his every move and when he was finally up, shot a hand out. Kirk's eyes snapped to his hand and he took a defensive position, legs apart and tense, shoulders hunched slightly as if ready to run or fight at any moment. So wild. The human's eyes were locked on his extended hand like a sniper on its target. Kirk swallowed and his Adams apple bobbed.

Faintly, Spock smiled. Kirk's reaction was perfect.

Sensing something, Kirk looked up to meet Spock's elated eyes, and his went suddenly confused. Betrayed. Horror filled. As if he had only now realized who was doing this to him; who was tormenting him like a puppeteer.

And he was right. Kirk was hit dumb like a ton of bricks had just fallen on his baby child. Nothing registered. Nothing except one very obvious fact.

This was _not_ his Spock. Tears brimmed over his eyes at the inhumanity of the world.

Spock saw this and instantly hardened, pure cruelty slipping into his unfathomable eyes. A scowl appeared; it was no more than a crease between his eyebrows and a slight down turning of his lips but it was there. And Kirk crumpled inside when he saw it.

"Come with me." Spock said flatly.

Kirk didn't even blink. He shook his head once but it didn't mean anything. An automatic response to the power in Spock's voice. He had been Captain for so long, and still considered himself one, taking direct orders like that... It messed with him. He was torn between free will, and the promise of this strange person's wrath. What he found interesting, as he followed Spock out of the holding cell and into the long, dark corridor, was that when the promise of physical or mental harm in one's self or loved ones were on the line… decision making became as easy as yes or no. Right or wrong just didn't factor in on such a basic level. That was where the power was. That was what he needed to find a crack in. Because he would fight this. He would fight until there was nothing left to fight for.

He felt the harsh, restricting cuffs grind against his skin as he walked at a slow limp. _Damn Vulcan._ Beaten to the bone and tired as hell, as he passed Spock in the hall he kept his eyes on the pointed-eared alien like a vulture. Not for enough time that Spock would lash out at him, but enough time to convey the human spirit.

And then he turned away from the dark eyes, as he did so vowing the single metronome of _escape. _He would not only survive here. He would rebel until he did not need to, or at least do everything in his power to delay the inevitable.

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**A/N:** Comments, questions, discussion (aside from inappropriate flaming) are all appreciated ;) I read everything and reply to all that I can (sign in guys, I'd love to chat!) and if you decide to read on, enjoy~


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Holy frig you guys are awesome :D All the views, favs, alerts, and especially reviews ;) (A special thanks goes to you guys, you wonderful reviewers, you) You've all made me a very, _very_ happy writer! _So_ while I could, will and _have_ tortured our delectable captain and put the whip in a very, equally sexy Spock's receptive hands, I won't torture _you guys_ and make you wait for it. I've done enough of that as it is x)

* * *

_When you came in, the air went out._  
_And every shadow, filled up with doubt._

"Yes, I have made my choice. The Captain is in my custody."

"...He didn't come easy, I'll bet. Never has."

Spock dismissed the slight trace of a chuckle he heard in the Admiral's voice.

"It did not take mentionable effort to subdue him, if that is the nature of your question."

The Admiral laughed outright then, and through the voice-only conversation, Spock could sense some underlying bitterness at Kirk and himself. He was silent.

"How long will it take you to get here?" his voice was low and amused.

"I estimate no longer than six months."

"_What?_ That's a helluva time to wait," the Admiral grumbled, no longer laughing.

Spock instantly bristled at the childish irritation in his voice.

"Admiral Decker, you are on a starbase light-years from us at our current position." He stated this matter-of-fact.

"What of it? I don't intend to simply sit here while you take your merry time. Kirk is practically _mine_ and the longer I have to wait the—"

"Admiral _Decker_." Spock said with a little more antipathy than was strictly necessary. I can do nothing of our current position besides begin projecting the ship in your direction along with doing our Empire duties." His voice took a dangerous hiss at the end that took the Admiral by surprise that was added to by his silence. Spock had long ago known how Decker was infant-like in his dealings with the world. He held so much power but used it for so little; he had heard it was because of an encounter with an old enemy years before. After that he had never been as domineering as he once was.

Eventually the Admiral replied, "You _know_ what I hold in my hand, _Captain_. If you want to keep that which is dear to you from untimely deaths… I suggest watching yourself."

Spock hesitated for a second longer that he should have. "Understood, Admiral."

It was effortless to suppress the twinge of anger he felt threaten his voice, though not entirely to ignore. In threatening his parents and septimal bondmate T'Pring, Admiral Decker had more control over Spock than the Vulcan would willingly admit. In return, he had demanded Kirk.

Back when his Kirk was still around captaining the ship, he noted with cold detachment, he had been extremely adamant about complying. Who he wished to support had been a choice logic could not dictate for him. The Admiral had enormous power within the Empire; Spock had little in comparison.

Not one to be wounded by such things or a coward, it had been difficult for him to come to a conclusion. Of which he had not, as of the storm which switched the two men. The complete unlikelihood of which happening still stupefied him. But, not willing to throw away such an opportunity, Spock took it immediately, taking Kirk captive.

He had thought long and hard about the decision he was about to make. He was condemning an innocent man to take the place of one he knew intimately, and who nothing of his fate nor the place to take part in its course.

Quickly though, he reminded himself he had done far worse. Simply never _to_ Kirk. Was it because this man looked identical that made the choice weigh so heavily on him?

Realizing the human thoughts, Spock purged them from himself. He had made his choice, and was conveying that choice, sealing it. He knew the consequences of such and was willing to accept them.

"I'm wondering though, how you could possibly _do_ this to Kirk? I know you two served many years onboard the _Enterprise_."

Spock was suspicious of the jest; it seemed harmless enough but he knew enough of Terrans to know when delicate words were being exchanged. He chose his words carefully.

"My family is precious to me; it would not do to willingly lose those who I have sworn my protection."

In fact, he would have chosen Kirk over his aging parents and infidelitous bondmate had he been forced to eventually choose, but that was none of Decker's concern.

"Yeah," Decker chucked darkly to himself, "Kirk was a lying, _cheating_ bastard anyway." The Admiral didn't expect Spock to understand or agree with his hatred, and Spock knew a response was not desired of him.

Strangely for Spock, he suddenly noted he wished the call to end. If not to be released from the Admiral's dry, greasy voice, then to at least use his time more wisely than talking to a mindless Admiral. It irked him to listen to the most repulsive of humans on what seemed at times like a one-way conversation. He knew such was the way of the Admiralty, and it did not grate on him as it would otherwise.

"Well, good. I'm… _happy_ you have everything under control."

"Yes, Admiral."

He heard the line disconnect.

_But I do not...__ not everything. Not yet._

* * *

_I don't know who you think you are,  
But before the night is through,  
I wanna do bad things with you.  
_

Kirk woke to the sensation of an aching shoulder and the warmth of a soft couch under him. He assumed he had been knocked out by Spock on arrival of his quarters. It took a moment to process the fact that he was trying to open his eyes but couldn't; a soft black cloth was tied securely around his head. That scared him. Being blind made him realize how tight a spot he was in at that moment. He didn't want to acknowledge it, he didn't want to let the agony of not knowing what the next hour would bring seep into his mind and poison his thoughts. Doing so was weakness.

But he felt a tedious kind of pain bring pricks of moisture to his eyes. Spock wanted him blind. Spock wanted him immobile. And Spock wanted him mute. Not that any of it mattered. He would be out of here soon and then none of it would matter. Spock wouldn't matter. This was not _his_ Spock.

This Spock wanted him perfectly ductile beneath his able hands, and had succeed in going part way. But the Vulcan knew part way wasn't good enough, and Kirk knew that. And they both knew it was Kirk who had to go that extra way; only, Spock would do whatever it took to get him there.

But whatever he may _be_ to Spock, he convinced himself he would not mold beneath the Vulcan like a toy. It was just... getting harder and harder every minute to uphold that promise.

He felt nauseous again, all of the sick and pervertedness of this game he was suddenly playing had him grinding his teeth to keep from throwing up. Clean oxygen filled his lungs, filling that empty pit. He didn't think about the last time he had eaten.

He curled his fingers. Wait. His hands were - still cuffed - but now curled into his stomach instead of locked behind him in the ultimate of unhelpful positions. This was good, and he was surprised; it was a pleasant discovery. He wasn't as uncomfortable as before, either. The stupid thing around his chin still held his mouth shut unfortunately, he noticed in disgust. The hard metal of it dug annoyingly into the soft under cavity of his jaw, making it impossible for him to speak. If he succeed in making a noise, it was only a strangled choking noise that grated on his ears. The contraption also made it harder to swallow, and he kept needing to calm himself to keep from going insane.

He took a steadying breath through his nose that flowed smoothly through his windpipe, and shifted so he was sitting on the edge of the couch. He reached up to feel the tight fabric and solid material of the thing holding his head like a vice. It took only moments of futile searching along it's raised curvature around his skull for a crease with the infuriating inconvenience of being handcuffed, to assure Kirk that he was inexorably stuck whether he _wanted _to be or not. He growled and shook his head in frustration, the contraption not even allowing him to verbally vent his anger in a nice long stream of curses. His annoyed breaths through his nose came out like a bulls', flaring in distaste and subdued anger.

He stood up suddenly on impulse, his whole body tensing to fight the empty air. To his dismay, he found he _did_ appreciate being free to do this. That triggered something in him and he felt immediately disgusted at the weakness. _He shouldn't be thankful._ He should be damn near furious at being so confined that the freedom of standing felt like a liberty. What was happening to him? Why was he feeling so... so accepting. And why was he surprised it was freaking him out?

_Alright, Jim. Calm down._

He curled his toes, concentrating on the fact that his boots had been removed and his bare feet were heavy and warm on the thick carpet. He just couldn't help, in the privacy of his mind, being thankful for being afforded at least _some _pleasure in this place. It was hard not to be when the last however many hours had been spent in the company - not that it could really be sanely called that - of one insane Vulcan. He meant that, even though his Spock could be maddeningly logical to the point where, from a human perspective, he could be legally classified as insane, this was worse in every sense of the word. What prompted him to break from that logic in this world? Why was he so dead set on making every second he was here a painful one? What was his motivation?

Kirk allowed himself not to think too deeply on the subject. He knew practically nothing about this place and this Spock, and going into the subject would undoubtedly end up with him lingering an unhealthy amount on the very real realization that he would soon learn all there was to know. And that was deeper than he wished to go, for his sanity.

He had the uncomfortable feeling he would be questioning his sanity a lot, if he stayed in this place for an extended period of time. He'd been there, done that, and had no plans on repeating it, thanks.

On a different note, he cocked his head and listened. If there was any indication of anyone who had not shown themselves, he would hear it. He would if they were human, anyway. He was out of luck with a Vulcan, and as unfortunate as that may be, it was all he could do to not perk his ears up.

He didn't like being blind; nobody would. He was just thankful he didn't hear anything out of the ordinary; or one crazy Vulcan, if you insisted on the particulars. He didn't expect to hear anything; if Spock was watching him, which was more than probable, anonymity was his if he wished it. The thought of Spock being able to maneuver around his senses made Kirk uncomfortable, but he did not let it show.

Okay. What could he do. He couldn't see, he couldn't talk, and he couldn't even really move his hands. Hold on. _The comm unit._ He knew exactly where it was; this ship had looked generally the same physically as his did, and he knew Spock's apartment layout like the back of his hand.

He began to imagine the room in front of him like oils on canvas. From where he was by the couch, he determined that he was in the living room with its low coffee table, the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, and the office desk and main door ahead. To his right would be the bedroom with its windows and the archway that led to it, large and open. The kitchenette was sunk into the far wall in the left-hand corner, right beside the bathroom unit. And finally, the dining table was to his left, just adjacent to the wall with a view of black space _and_ the comm unit. Perfect.

Slowly, for he couldn't remember much of the very limited time he had spent up and awake in this room, and he wasn't exactly sure how this Spock kept it furniture-wise (though he wouldn't have been surprised if he stumbled onto an antique amphora of lirpas) Kirk made his way around the dining table, holding the tops of the expensive chairs in his cuffed hands, to the outside wall of the bathroom. He smiled, trailing his hands along the wall to where he knew the wonderful piece of communications equipment was snugly attached. He felt the cold keys under his hand with more grateful relief than he would have ever imagined.

He had his fingers on the red emergency button-when strong hands spun him around like a damn _cyclone_. He made a choked sound as strong hands forced him to the ground with an immense pressure that only now made itself known in the cavity of his shoulder. He went down easily, as human struggling to a Vulcan didn't pose much of a defense, though when he felt the cold muzzle of a phaser press into his neck, he froze in suppressed panic.

As a cool hand snaked onto his shoulder he arched his back, sharply sucking in a breath and reaching back to grab the Vulcan's hand away with a growl. What he got in return was a warning; the phaser's familiar _chhhk_ that it had been snapped to 'kill' and the unpleasant sensation of this one being pressed deeper into his jugular. He exhaled, inhaling again and holding it while Spock's posessive hand explored his exposed neck. His whole body was tense; his shoulders and head shook at being subjected to this.

What had he been _thinking?_ His hands quivered uselessly in powerlessness at the situation and he groaned internally. What made him think that Spock would even let him _near_ the comm? He had gone to all the trouble of getting him here and essentially let him know who was boss, so why would he take that chance? _He hadn't._

Kirk felt the overpowering urge to rip Spock's hand from him again, but the sensible side of him stopped that thought in its tracks before his subconscious could realize it and probably leave him dead on the expensive white carpet. Something inside of him _stopped himself_ from lashing out at the dangerous Vulcan, for fear retaliation.

Without warning, the Vulcan hand snaking its way through Kirk's hair grabbed tightly and jerked his head back, garnering a surprised whimper from the human.

The angle was painfully sharp, and Kirk stilled as his head faced the ceiling. He knew what would be there in front of his face: Spock, staring down at him with those devilishly pointed features and just the hint of a smile from beneath heavily lidded and charcoaled eyes that suggested something along the very _twisted_ lines of _...I am the cat and you are my canary; sing for me..._

Kirk felt sick again at the image, though strangely hypnotized. Long dark eyebrows and the almost smugly tilted grin as if holding Kirk against his will with a phaser _set to kill_ was nothing new, and perhaps even erotic.

_Sickly sweet._

Kirk was made aware of the hot pounding of the blood in his veins as invasive hands twisted themselves in his hair with little regard for any objections to the matter he might have. Not that he did. Not that he wanted to _die_ right then, anyway. He was practically a mannequin in the trance that Spock kept him in, until the Vulcan pulled a little _too_ hard, and Kirk stopped, then jerked, as if suddenly aware of the strange position he was in.

This did not go over well, and thought he hadn't known it possible, the hold on his scalp tightened to a fiery pain that wrenched on his hair and made his eyes prick at the sudden rush of pain. Kirk had long ago pressed his hands to his chest to keep them still, but had trouble keeping them there now.

He squeezed his eyes shut as his breathing became shallow and quick. _Okay, okay, I give. Stop, stop, stop, please just..._ Kirk thought in helpless desperation as his heart hammered against his chest. He didn't fight. He didn't give any indication that he was about to break out of the hold or scramble away.

He hoped Spock would relent, even though he wanted more than anything to shout and yell and _curse_ the damned Vulcan he couldn't even _see_. Instead, he was forced to be silent and endure, and he hated it. He knew from the death grip the Vulcan had on his scalp and the phaser pressed like a knife to his throat, that if he should move, Spock could press that trigger so fast he wouldn't even be aware death had taken him.

But still... he hated it. Nothing could stop him from hating it in the deepest darkest part of his mind.

His breathing became faster, more urgent, as Spock twisted tortuously on his hair.

"James… can I call you that?"

_Fuck no, you bastard_.

Kirk rolled his eyes before he realized how painful that voice was to hear. It was almost like burning coals dripping into his ears. He whined in pain, straining slightly as if he were being made to listen to the devil cackle and the sweetest of angels sing but couldn't decide which.

"Yes, I think I will." Spock breathed in his ear, warm and controlled. "James Kirk, I will explain to you only once." he shifted miniscuely, liking the feel of tight held hair in his grasp.

"You are now my bondservant, or slave, more crudely. You have no rights, not even to live. I am your Master from this point on. I control you, and if you displease me, I _will_ kill you. You know of my capabilities; it would be wise not to disregard them."

Spock paused then, giving Kirk time. He did not want to overwhelm the human. He curled his long fingers in Kirk's dirty blonde hair, scratching his scalp as he would a cat, alternatively pulling the gold locks tight and straight. He growled deep in his throat in _burning_ possession. Kirk was his, to do whatever he pleased with and at his discretion. This hair; everything, fascinating and illogical emotions in all. Spock breathed onto Kirk's warm human head, making him _his_ and making Kirk _know_ he was his.

Kirk gagged as he felt a creeping sensation in his hair, along with the claws dragging their way along his scalp. His growing sense of dread had finally manifesting like setting concrete. Complete, and encompassing, Kirk felt it in the incomprehensibly tight and suffocating words swirling around him and in the cold sweat clinging to his shirt. Like the frigidity of space, unforgiving and vast. He felt suddenly alone, and _very_ controlled. He fought against that. He would not give in.

He managed to shake his head infinitesimally.

"Oh, yes. You will obey me; you have no choice in the matter." Spock's laughing, honeyed voice was like dry autumn leaves falling in a sea of orange and gold... to finally brush the forest floor and burst into flame like some malicious bomb.

"...eventually." This seemed to amuse Spock, but Kirk was so sickened by his tone he couldn't concentrate enough to know _why_.

"Now I'm going to take the blindfold and muter off, and I would appreciate it if you stayed completely silent."

For a moment, Kirk debated whether or not to heed Spock's instructions, but with sharp nails suddenly driving themselves into his head, he didn't need to be told twice.

"Is this at all unclear?" Spock jerked Kirk's head a fraction to make him answer. He did, nodding against Spock's hold in a slight quiver of his head. But he couldn't help to admit to himself that the tight grip on his torso was really starting to bother him.

Spock released him finally, to Kirk's immense relief, but immediately pressed the cool edge of a knife to his throat. Kirk growled in frustration.

He was thankful though, when Spock swiftly untied and slipped off the piece of silken black fabric over his eyes. Kirk blinked, the ceiling the first thing he saw as his head was still tilted up. He tried to swallow found it almost unmanageable with his head at such an unnatural angle. He shifted uncomfortably, making a small noise at the strain.

Spock then unclipped the restricting head strap, freeing Kirk to move his jaw around.

Kirk coughed, opening his mouth wide to stretch out his neck muscles and get them used to damn _working_ again. Seeing as the knife was still pressed into his neck, he tried not to jostle it as he did this. He also looked around, but was unable to see anything other than the ceiling and other side of the room without moving.

Reaching over, Spock gingerly placed the black elastic and cloth on the glass dining table.

He hesitated then, before placing his free hand on Kirk's stomach.

Kirk froze, not liking this at all.

Spock felt Kirk's muscles automatically tense under the fabric of his shirt, but he wasn't bothered by it. The human would soon learn not to flinch away from him. As a reminder, Spock took a moment to slide the knife along Kirk's throat. He felt the human burn and reach away, but that only sent him deeper into Spock's arms. The Vulcan's lip curled and he slid his hand under Kirk's shirt.

As expected, Kirk's arms slammed down on his cool hand instinctually, the feeling of an alien hand on such an unprotected part of him an immediate threat he could not ignore even with a knife pressed to his throat.

To counter this, Spock had only to calmly press the knife _deeper_, seriously threatening to break the skin. Kirk gasped a dry sob, his breaths shuddering. He didn't loosen his hold for several seconds, before the sharp edge became too much. He let up gradually, giving Spock free reign to his body as slowly as he could possibly allow.

_NO._ Spock demanded through telepathic touch, irritated at the resistance. That shocked Kirk into instant compliance, and his arms became loose. He shuddered as he felt Spock's dominating hand _touch_ his stomach.

Spock sighed mentally, taking the time to sense what else the human was _feeling_.

Misery and helplessness; it coursed somewhat unhealthily through him. Such illogical yet powerful emotions, Spock thought, completely disregarding their importance to the well-being of his human. In The Empire, no one really was _healthy_.

He moved his hand up, weaving through warm chest hair and a frantically pounding heart to hard nipples. He ran a finger over one, feeling the pulse and super-sensitive region with ecstasy. He took it with two fingers gently, hearing Kirk's breathing speed up. He then pinched, seeing Kirk jump and clench his teeth, sobs threatening.

Tears started to run down his face and soft wails soon echoed around the room like a horrible, macabre lullaby. Relatively satisfied he had made his point, Spock released the rock-hardened area, lingering his hand around Kirk's chest. He slowly withdrew, seeing how the human's eyes were tightly closed. He thought that a shame, as he could not deny those eyes were of such an aesthetically pleasing blue.

Then he remembered he _could_ make Kirk open his eyes.

"James, open your eyes." he said with deadly calm, smiling with a slight curl to his lips as his eyes went to Kirk's shaking hands on his stomach. They looked to be quite numb from being forcibly removed from self-protection. In time, Jim would not be so adamant.

_"Jim." _

Spock dug the knife in deeper, enough to get Kirk to snap open his eyes and glare a blazing hell of fire and brimstone. If ever ice could scorch, Spock knew then it just had. From where he was now crouching next to Kirk, Spock took the human's head in his right hand to hold it still, and then moved his head closer. He kept eye contact during this, watching as the fire melted to fright like the dawning of a new day. Bright, blazing, and intense. Unstoppable. At Kirk's ear, Spock breathed just to feel a ripple to go through the human. He then kissed it gently, once, ending with a growl that left just enough to inspire fear.

But that was enough for tonight. He braided his hand in Kirk's hair and removed the knife. He then stood up, simultaneously hauling Kirk to his feet, the human's blonde hair held in his inhumanely strong hand. Kirk hissed as he was dragged to stand and slammed his eyes closed again, grinding his teeth as Spock's fingers pulled his scalp to burning.

Spock let his captive go abruptly, making Kirk stumble slightly before he found balance and slumped down, coughing. He took quick, confused breaths and shook his head.

When Spock reached out to take his hands, Kirk reacted without thinking and shot back, pulling his hands to his chest. His eyes were wide as he realized Spock was faster, and he moaned when the Vulcan wrenched his cuffed hands back, a snarl on his lips. Spock took the ionized handcuffs in his own, pressing his thumb to the tiny scanner that made them click open. He then slipped the cuffs off Kirk and drizzled them on the table along with the other things.

Once free, Kirk wrapped his arms around himself and stumbled backward, away from the Vulcan, until his back hit the wall and he shuddered, keeping his eyes locked on Spock.

Spock let him, watching as the human stood shaking and staring at him. His eyes were locked on his every move. Just like the first time he did that, it gave Spock a tingle at the back of his head. Jim's breathing was deep and his pupils were dilated. All responses helped humans in an emergency, he knew, but the fact that Jim's body responded to his own like a _threat... _was satisfactorily exhilarating.

After a moment, Kirk glanced down and rubbed his slightly purple wrists before looking back up to Spock, his eyes flicking down to hands that had only moments ago manipulated and hurt him. Anger flared again, and his mouth twisted.

"Now." Spock said, ignoring the hostile expression, "Come right here," he motioned to the floor a few feet away from him, "and let us see how much you understand."

Kirk bristled, feeling like he was coming out of some trance. He hated the 'we' and had no intention whatsoever of going _wherever_ like a puppy no matter what he had just been forced to agree to. He made that perfectly clear by standing up straighter and looking right at Spock.

"_Make me."_

James Kirk would soon regret that statement.

"If that is what you wish." Spock said with no hint of amusement or anger. He looked at Kirk calmly, not for himself, but to make the human realize afterward what had happened.

And then something in Kirk's head started to throb. And then it flashed, just for a moment, as searing pain ripped through his head, making him ball his fists. He shut his eyes, bowing his head down under the pressure. _No, that was making it worse_. He was still on his feet, but the pain was intense and inescapable. He leant against the wall, digging his back into its smooth surface, grinding his teeth until tears came and he fought to stay quiet.

Spock was impressed at the show of strength, but knew it would only be a matter of time. And moments later, Kirk crumpled to the ground with a pained cry. Spock stopped projecting.

Kirk's forarms hugged the ground and he coughed, warm spittle coating the floor. He shifted, his vision blurry and sore. He was breathing hard as he finally looked around and grabbed a chair, using it to help him get to his feet. He struggled and it took a few minutes, but when he was finally on his feet again, the look he directed at Spock was filled to the brim with all the pain and anguish one expected from a grieving mother. Infuriatingly to Kirk, Spock paid it no mind as his eyes swept the human's shuddering body.

Eyes like those were easy to come by in The Empire.

He then pointedly glanced to the spot in the middle of the room again, and back to Kirk. Kirk glared spitefully at him but went to stand beside Spock in the middle of the room, facing the wide windows. He then glared into space and avoided the Vulcan's eye.

Spock nodded in appreciation, "I will be monitoring you while I am gone. If I sense you move, I can just as easily put you back." He sent a thimble's worth of energy at Kirk and saw annoyance flash briefly in the human's eyes.

The door _whooshed_ closed.

* * *

**A/N:** Alright, how was that? Enough practically-rape for you? I'm sorry this took so long; I realized only a few days ago I needed to write another scene for it to make sense D: Though I cut this chapter down, actually.. but how's the length for you guys? It's not too long is it? O.o I'd love to hear your thoughts, what you liked and all that! I thrive on praise, and it gets the next chapter out faster ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Wonderland - ****Alone**

_I hear the ticking of the clock  
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark  
I wonder where you are tonight  
No answer on the telephone...  
_

Kirk waited until he heard the door slide close. He breathed a sigh, taking the time to calm himself down. He kept from grinding his teeth as he regulated his breathing. If he didn't do that—if he was careless, he would most likely regret it later.

And all because he had somehow landed himself in this frustratingly similar yet ultimately alien ship. Where Spock was the Captain, and Kirk was a domestic slave. How did he get himself into these types of situations? Besides being beyond infuriating to suddenly be treated as no more than an unruly child, the _why_ was beyond him. An enigma in his own right, this Spock was… unsettlingly wild. He demanded anything and everything of Kirk.

It made him want to assert an authority, to insert some kind of _control_ over his situation. The desire was like that of a bowling ball—dropped in his gut. It made him wince as if suddenly knocked of air.

The only power he _had_ was his reaction to the mind-numbing authority looming over him. A sorely limited option, but unfortunately the only one he had.

What about Spock, right now? Was he realistically going to believe the sadistic Vulcan could keep track of where he was and even punish him for it, long-distance? Though laced with sarcasm, Kirk didn't laugh at the statement. It could quite possibly, be true. Though the logistics were that he was separated from his self-proclaimed master by hundreds, if not thousands of pounds of metal.

He rationalized that it was likely that was a bluff on Spock's part but… was he willing to risk it?

To be on the safe side, he could wait until Spock was farther away at least. He knew the bridge was a _reasonable_ distance away. And then he could get to the comm unit, finally.

He knew it was a long—make that _very_ long—shot that anybody who answered, Uhura, a member of the crew, or even a ship within range, would be on friendly terms with him. Their manner of what he had seen from his few seconds in the transporter room was a healthy indicator of the hostility here. He knew _a_ Kirk was the Captain of this ship, or _had_ been until Spock saw fit to remove him from it, so being held hostage didn't seem farfetched. For all he knew he had allies willing to help him a _little_. He just needed to be convincing if he actually got a hold of anyone.

He took another breath. That should be enough time, it only took a few minutes to walk from the bridge to shuttle bay anyway.

Without giving it anymore thought, Kirk took a breath, prayed to no one in particular he wasn't sealing his death certificate, and lunged to the wall. He slammed a hand onto the panic button and squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to breathe. His heart pounded thick in his ears.

All in all, it was several seconds before anything happened. Although, instead of the red button lighting up and giving a noise of ascension as he expected, Kirk was suddenly surrounded by swirling light.

That was a _transporter beam_. His heart beat frantically and his thoughts rushed to his own ship. Had his crew locked onto him? What did transporting have to do with the emergency button? Absolutely _nothing_. So why… he had never actually _pressed_ the button but you'd think…

Through this, Kirk stayed as still as he dared. The lights sparked with electricity and power, enveloping him in their wonderful glow. He saw something: his own _Enterprise?_

It was Spock and Scotty, frantic at the controls with fear and determination plain on their faces. Spock looked up, his eye desperate. They didn't seem to see Kirk.

"_Spock!" _he yelled, though it make any difference and Spock looked down again, his eyes once again whipping back and forth.

Kirk felt a lightness in him, a burst of pride and affection that left as quickly as it had come. Everything was going dark, an instant later leaving Kirk again in the small, grey room. The world seemed to crash down on him.

_No_…

That was it. He felt nothing, and waited perfectly still, praying to any gods he could think of and all the powers in the universe, hoping whoever it was that had _tried_ to please, _please _try again...

Come_ on..._

All was silent. Nobody was trying again. He was alone, _again._

"Shit."

His back was to the wall and he leaned against it, feeling himself slowly slide down. They had tried, that was obvious; the crew were probably wondering where the hell he was, or if they knew, were probably trying their best to get him back. The transporter had been proof of that; he had seen them.

But it hadn't worked. He could only hope the crew wouldn't give up. He hit his head against the wall in frustration until it hurt. It wasn't as bad as Spock's torture, but it was enough to make himself stop.

Stop. Everything. He was stuck here, in this cruel world. Where everything was backwards and roles were switched. Where he had no control of anything, not even to state his growling stomach; of which he only now noticed. For the first time in a while, he almost wished Spock would be back soon.

* * *

Spock left in a hurry, his new duties as Captain called, and there was trouble in the transporter. He hurried in to the sight of two technicians battling with the controls.

"Captain Spock, the surges are coming more frequently; we don't know if we can stop it this time."

"You will. I do not want any_thing_ or any_one_ being beamed aboard. Do everything in your power to stop them." He said in the forceful tone of command, looking to the screens. Fingers flew to obey his orders. The alternate universe had been trying to send back their captain, and Spock would have none of it. His captain was staying out of this universe if he had to quite literally _kill_ to keep him there.

Suddenly, lights came swirling on the transporter pad and Spock growled, "Stop them."

"—Just… got it!" the technician grinned wickedly, shutting the machine off, and sending the unwelcome swirls of energy into nothing.

"…How long do we wait, Captain?" the second said, looking down at his instruments and back.

"We wait until we need the transporter again. That should wear them down, and they _will_ stop eventually."

An eerie calm settled on the room as the three humanoids wondered at their daring. They were trapping two men, Starfleet officers, in different worlds. Was that legal? Starfleet Regulations were taken more as guidelines than actual rules, but they had to wonder. Nobody would know.

Casualties of war.

Which was exactly what they were. This was a war and Spock was protecting that which had come dangerously into the line of fire. He could not bear that, and had acted accordingly. He had not known the two would switch, but that they had, he could not help himself but admit was a small miracle. It was keeping it that way that would take a certain amount of… perseverance.

* * *

_**USS Enterprise**_

Those eyes, he knew them anywhere. He had seen them cocky, excited, furious, quiet, loving, and even sad but never… never like that. Never before like had he seen them with such an expression of pain. It tore at Kirk's mouth, pulling it down to a silent open-mouthed cry of agony that spiked Spock's heart like a javelin. He felt as heavy as lead as Scotty yelled at him.

"Commander, they've completely blocked us!" his Scottish burr was tormented as he worked the controls. Spock's eyes snapped to the control screen. No outgoing signals were being accepted in the quadrant of space they had found with Uhura working the communications panel for hours and hours, day after day.

They could do nothing while the whole ship was on lock-down, wherever it was. They attempted to breach the shields, to allow only their transporter to bring something back… to no avail.

Kirk was as trapped as they felt.

* * *

Hours or days later, Spock was making his rounds when he found himself at the heavily enforced door that led down to the brig. Such was unusual, that he should find himself at a place with no recollection of the journey there. He considered someone had been tampering with his nutrition consumption and that he should immediately initiate an investigation, but knew no contaminant could have gotten past his sensitive sense of smell, or taste if not the latter.

Then, what? He was adamant to believe it was because of the recent stress his body had been under, mentally and physically. He had been awake for the past two days, since Jim had disappeared leaving a strange, hostile twin in his place.

At first, the crew and he had been under the impression that something had happened to him on the planet below but when scanned, forcibly he might add, subtle differences in DNA structure had been apparent. Though similar, this Kirk was not _his_.

And so they had started the laborious process of finding the source of the transporter beam that had sent him here. It had taken many hours but finally they had it. And Kirk. Even after all that, in the end nothing could be done. They tried as much as they had been able but could do nothing while the other ship stopped accepting signals altogether. It just couldn't be done.

He found himself meditating, not sleeping or eating but simply trying to find an answer. None had come.

The door still loomed before him and against his better judgment he opened it, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him before silently making his way down the steps. The guard at the bottom looked curiously at him and Spock only nodded without making eye contact, looking ahead to where Kirk was being kept.

Against his expectations, the human was neither asleep nor angrily glaring at him. Well, he _was_ glaring at him, but not hostilely. The look he was given was somewhat reminiscent of Ancient Earth artwork of their devil. He had not seen many but knew of their existence and compared that to this. His eyes, dark and level looked almost bored. His mouth twitched at the side as if he were fighting a grin.

"Hello, Vulcan." Kirk greeted him in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, his demeanour suddenly reminding Spock of a person under the influence of heavy drugs, in an almost hazed-like stupor. "Come to take a gander at _real_ power? You are so soft, do you know that?" Kirk's smile widened to a wolf-like grin and his eyes sparkled.

He did not respond, only placing his hands behind his back and looking almost sadly in at the pathetic doppelganger of his captain.

A silent few minutes passed.

"What? Are you just going to stand there and _watch_ me?" Kirk demanded with a sneer, tossing his head aside in disgust. "You're all the same. You think you're so superior."

The Captain's eyes dimmed and he smiled in the corner of his mouth. The half-smile was a pathetic ruin of its former self, and quickly died on his lips.

"Go ahead. Many men have watched me, including yourself when you weren't like a damn block of ice." He chuckled, showing sharp canine teeth. "In fact you could be quite… stimulating at times."

He was suddenly at the barrier, his eyes wild and frantic.

"Do you_ remember?_ Spock, tell me you still _know_ who I am!" He shouted this, his nose as close as he could get to the force field without pressing up against it altogether. His eyes, so filled with malice and hate these past few days, now looked worn and passionate.

Spock knew nothing of what Kirk was talking, but he had an inkling. His silence confirmed something in Kirk's mind, and Spock saw recognition spark.

"It's… not me." His voice betrayed his disappointment. "But you—" he snapped his eyes to Spock's again, "You _know_."

Spock would neither confirm nor deny what he _knew_, and the very fact that Kirk was getting so much from him without him having to say a word was suddenly irritating. He washed all emotion from his face.

He did not know why he had come here, and his decision had been rash. He turned to leave.

"Wait! You can't—" his shout was lost to Spock and as an idea came to him, he grabbed at it as if he were clinging to the edge of a rock face.

"I know what they're doing to him."

The statement was a low whisper but Spock stopped dead in his tracks. He did not turn immediately. He did not want to know. He should not trust this man; his instincts told him not to. Why, then, was he stopping. Why, then, did he not ignore the annoying sound altogether and leave?

Because he could not. He had lost a friend, and he had lost a lover. Any information, however misinformed, was like a physical pull on his being.

He turned his head slightly back and waited.

Kirk sensed this would be all he was given and he snatched the chance.

"They'll have forced him from the Captaincy."

A long pause met Kirk's ears as he strained against the barrier to see Spock at the end of the hall. He knew the truth; he knew what they would have done to remove his power was kill him. He was not as heartless as to tell this Spock that, though. That would not gain him any points in these soft-shelled people's books.

"Tortured him." That much was true, at first. Nobody on his ship, including himself, stood for spinelessness. It was undignified. Though he knew there was a twin of himself somewhere receiving or having received these brutal treatments, he was not moved by it. He would have done the same to any above him who showed a crack of insecurity. That was the way things were.

The thought that he could have had to reprimand his Spock did not occur to him. The Vulcan knew his place… but, what would Spock do to him? He hadn't considered that, he realized suddenly. Would Spock force him to stand down? What would he do if he, Kirk, were suddenly shapeless in a new world. Spock would know instantly it was not him, he was sure. But would it matter; would it matter that the man looked exactly like his lost Captain?

To Spock, he knew it wouldn't. Under normal circumstances. But kill him? Would Spock do that? Probably; there was no reason to keep a being who had no place in the world. Even if that being was an exact replica in body of his Captain.

Kirk slumped, strangely unhappy with this conclusion. He shouldn't be feeling this for a situation that had nothing to do with him. It was not him, it was another. What happened to that other was none of his business and nor did he care. The other Kirk would be dead before he had time to understand the full gravity of what he had done.

Spock stood in the shadows, taking extra care not to grab Kirk's attention as he watched.

Soon of course, Kirk roused from his drugged state and blinked, spying Spock quickly and jumping back in surprise.

"Damn Vulcan." He growled, looking up and down Spock with spite.

Without pause, Spock took a moment more to catalogue Kirk's face twisted in annoyance, and then left. Kirk fumbled for a moment, yelling through the barrier.

"You won't stay away for long! Only _I_ know what's happening to him!"

The door closed with a hiss.

"Damned Vulcan…"

Kirk was the only one for whom that sentence stirred, even if he had been the one to say it. He ground his teeth and shuddered, feeling the chill of the room in his bones.

_Damn Vulcan, Spock. Don't leave me._

* * *

The next week the crew of the _Enterprise_ transferred Kirk to a correctional facility for members of Starfleet.

_Stress on the job resulting in class four schizophrenia_, read the report. Signed and acknowledge by former First Officer Spock, to the afflicted Captain Kirk.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks so much again, those of you who have miraculously kept reading up until this point. My inner writer can't help but squee every time I get a review, so don't be put off by the material! ;)

Up next: Spock marks his territory and Kirk learns a few lessons in obedience.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Well as everyone can see I'm terribly late. Thank you guys, for waiting so patiently for me to get my act together ^^ School is tough at the moment, and I just don't have a lot of time. This chapter is not really what I promised, but what I promised is still going to happen, this just sprang up and I had to write it. It's also a bit less than what I normally post, but I am much better at updating when I have nice, manageable pieces. In the future I'm sure you'll see updates come quicker because of it. Again, I'm really sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I'm so happy with the reviews this has gotten, so keep it up, I love hearing from you guys~

* * *

**Unfavourable Circumstance**

Shortly after they had averted the crisis in the transporter bay, Spock commandeered a close by control unit in a deserted hallway.

Because of security and issues with the unofficial practice of murder to move up in rank, crewmember locations were only available to the Captain and CMO. Spock had little used the feature but it now offered itself usefully to his purposes. He had promised Kirk that should he move from the area he indicated in the middle of his apartment, there would be consequences.

He also had a feeling the recent breach in their transport fields had touched Kirk in some way. He did not _know_ whether they had or not, but he felt inclined to, at the very least, assure himself the alternate ship had not succeeded in beaming Kirk away. That would be unacceptable.

The program came up on a series of hidden commands and a detailed map of the ship spun its multi-coloured web over the entire screen. The ship was huge but the layout was precise enough that he could see the individual green dots of crewmembers as they sprung up. The dots moved in accurate real-time. Without glancing to the numerous readouts at the side, he chose the floor he wanted, several up from his current position, and selected his apartment with a tap of his finger on the sensitive glass.

A plain outline of the rooms he occupied blinked up in a neat white box. His eyes automatically focused on one green dot—near the main door of his quarters.

It wasn't exactly the middle of the room but it confirmed that one: Kirk was still aboard, and two: he had seen fit to at least _partially_ obey him.

Kirk's location was harsh enough to warrant a second thought, but Spock didn't pay it that much attention. Kirk was still in the room and for the moment, that was acceptable. He didn't think punishing Kirk for such a minor infraction would make any progress. He needed to earn some of Kirk's trust, and the course to submission was always difficult for humans.

Though he was pleased _and_ interested at how easily their fragile minds were influenced; he had done relatively little and already Kirk was displaying a positive reaction. He did not count on the wilful Kirk's continual acceptance of his authority, but it was a start. There would be much to do, if he was to keep Kirk with him. He could not deny that the project was selfish; he was passing Kirk off as something of a spoil of war. But the longer he thought about it the more he came to the conclusion that his feelings about Kirk _extended to any form he came in._ Simply because this Kirk was not his captain—

_His Captain_.

Spock withheld thought for a moment to attempt to calm the erratic mental rush.

To no avail. This was not longing, but it was close. He had tried.

He had tried, but hiding away Captain James T. Kirk had _never_ been an option. He would never have done that, _could _never have done that. _Wherever_ Kirk was… he would find a way to survive, and hopefully he would do it in a world where he wasn't hunted.

The forced separation had been best for them both.

They could not have stayed together, and the alternative was death for Kirk. He was a wanted man in four parts of the Empire before high command had finally seen it.

It had not shocked Spock. On the contrary, he had warned Kirk well before then that he was in danger. But Kirk had not listened. He was intent on playing the game of cat and mouse until the bitter end. They were far from any major headquarters and Kirk continued to turn a blind eye to the threats aimed his way.

The accident with the transporter was something Spock had never considered as a reality, the chances so low. Of course he had considered all the options—and despite the reality he was _still_ formulating ideas in the back of his mind as to how get Kirk back—but it was only the likely ones he took into account.

Therefore, when it had happened, he had immediately grabbed the sudden opportunity. He informed Starfleet command Kirk had changed mentally from the accident and was no longer a threat. From there it had been easy to put him down as a slave aboard the ship as the Admiralty hadn't questioned his judgment.

The Admiralty, excluding Admiral Decker.

Spock would have been happy to leave this alternate Kirk _to the sharks_, as he hadn't had a care at the time what had happened to him, but Decker had a vast network of people in high places. His _request_ had been to the point and for Spock to ignore it… was suicide. So he was left to babysit Kirk until such time as he could be handed over.

The task, which had seemed so simple at first—throw Kirk in the brig and leave him to rot for months—had turned around on him literally before he realized it was happening. And by then it was too late—once he realized how he felt. Kirk was _his_.

It did not matter that this was not his Kirk in soul; it was him in body. It shook some deeply ingrained part of him to disregard that. Their _katras_, though not the same, were housed in the same physical shells.

His first mediation after the switch he reasoned that a part of him had not let go of Kirk as he should, though he knew it was his human side that had not. His Vulcan side told him harshly that there was no similarity in the two Kirks and to search for one was futile.

Spock would not listen to that side.

He felt a nagging sense of dread that if he did, he would lose Kirk forever. He had bonded. He was filling the holes in the only way he knew how.

It was irrational. Kirk was gone, the one he knew, and possibly forever if he had done his job correctly. He had performed a personal sacrifice for the safely of another. He had calculated it would take a toll on him. He simply needed time. Time and a balance of normal activity.

* * *

**Surprise**

_I'll get by,  
I'll survive  
When the world's crashing down,  
When I fall and hit the ground  
I will turn myself around,  
Don't you try to stop me  
_

Kirk's heartbeat was out of control.

Despite his efforts to calm the frantic racing to a steady rhythm, it sung a sweat drenched cry that made him question what he was doing. His breathing was thin and at times seemed like it was strangling him.

In his hand was a smooth dagger.

In the end, he hadn't been able to cope with simply sitting on the floor. That would accomplish nothing and he didn't have the patience to wait while he could be doing _something_. The plan was simple: slit Spock's throat and make a run for it before the doors could close on his face. He needed the doors open if he was going to get out of there; they were locked and nothing in his power had persuaded the damn control unit to bypass it's heavy instructions to keep him locked in the room.

He had wanted to rip its circuits out, but had instead raided first the kitchen and then the bathroom before finding the dagger he now held in a sweaty palm. Endless searching it had taken for him to find it, finally, in a hidden shelf, but now… _now _he wasn't as defenseless as he had been.

He shuddered. Waiting was the worst part. It was idiotic what he was doing and he knew he didn't have a high chance of success. There was only a thin margin of time to do the deed anyway. Scratch that, there was a _microscopic_ margin of time. The doors would close almost instantly and he needed to either have Spock down so he could slip out, or to hold him hostage so he could barter with the Vulcan on the topic of his freedom and escape.

Neither were very appealing, or, for that matter, likely to succeed. Kirk felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it back.

He hadn't thought too much about what would happen when it actually _happened._ But because dry heaving like some kind of anorexic cat at the thought of what he was about to do was not an appealing prospect, he didn't really _want_ to think about it.

This wasn't _his_ Spock, so it didn't matter what the estranged Vulcan did to him, he argued with himself. This was _a ruthless captain_ from an entirely other universe and _not_. _His. Spock_.

He found himself colder because of it all. Spock wasn't human; _this_ Spock didn't have an ounce of Kirk's race in him despite his physical biology. Wherever this place was, it certainly hadn't done Spock any good.

As if in reminder to where he was, Kirk again became aware of his body. There was no denying the fact that he _ached_. The brutal pounding of the past day had made him weak. He tried to ignore the stabbing pain of hunger in his gut, and the constant weakness pressed upon him that made his knees want to buckle.

Kirk ground his teeth, readjusted his hold on the knife, and waited.

He did not have to wait long.

He could almost sense it; he could feel Spock's approach. A subtle change in energy. The room was suddenly quiet, aside for the outrageously loud throb of his heart. His bare feet felt light on the carpet as a strange calm came over him. It was odd, as if nothing were about to happen. He didn't have to fear anything. Why had he thought that in the first place? What was he even doing? Why did he have to leave?

_No._ No, he had to do this. It was Spock that was keeping him here. Here, where he didn't belong. It was Spock for whom he held the knife.

His stomach turned to lead.

He would need to knock Spock out, slice his throat, something to defile his body and so allow him escape. Was he really willing to destroy that alien body, so powerful and cruel and so _perfectly familiar_? In another time anything to so much as look at that body the wrong way was setting itself up for one hell of a pounding from James T. Kirk. Now it was he who would destroy it. But… it wasn't Spock. And it was. It _was_. They sounded the same and looked the same and… acted completely different. Just because they shared the same physical DNA did not mean that they were the same. It couldn't.

His heartbeat came faster and sick nausea swept over him.

He was out of time, and out of options.

The door opened with a _swoosh _that sucked the oxygen from Kirk's lungs and broke the suffocating silence.

The moment seemed to catch.

Kirk wondered faintly if Spock was reading something only his being a Vulcan could pick up.

Silently, Spock stepped into the room, pausing a few paces past the threshold. For a split second Kirk thought Spock wouldn't notice him there, this preceding the thought that wondered about why he would rationally want such a thing. Of course, nothing of the kind happened.

Spock turned sharply in his direction and Kirk noticed the Vulcan's eyes flit to the knife he held and then back to his face. There was dark curiosity there, betraying the fact that he did not completely understand Kirk's motives.

The door slid shut and Spock was as still as a cat, watching with that cold intelligence completely shrouded from the human world.

"James," Spock said softly, darkly. He lowered his head in a gesture of confidence. "Jim, there is no need for defence against me."

In such a tiny gesture Kirk would have missed if he had been looking the other way, Spock raised one hand to show he would not act violently against Kirk, and held out the other to induce him to hand over the dagger.

"I am aware…"

Kirk's throat went dry.

"—that you feel powerless in your present situation. But I consent _not_ to harm you without cause. Hand me the dagger and you will not be punished for this." Spock's voice was seductive and calm, its very essence even then lulling Kirk's subconscious to submission.

Kirk's face crumbled in desperation as he felt powerful hands around him, though Spock was still several feet away. Hands, pressing and immeasurably huge, crushing him, slowly and completely. It was inevitable that in time they would.

"I can't. Stay here," Kirk choked against the force, tightening his grip on the knife. His eyes locked on Spock's, and he did not deny they were held there by the alien, and not the other way around. He could not look away for the world.

There was fear, in his eyes. For he was afraid. And there was pain, because standing there debating whether or not he would or _could _kill a Vulcan who looked exactly like Spock was painful. But the fear was not a fear _of _Spock, it was a fear of failure. A fear that, should he fail, he would tumble down a bottomless hole with no guarantee of a safe landing. He did not know what lay at the bottom of such a hole, but he knew without a doubt that entering it would ravage him. He would not come out the same person. He would leave behind everything. Even at that moment Spock was drawing him closer, moving closer _with every silent step._

And the harder he looked, into those bottomless eyes, the more he was convinced there was nothing of the friend he knew in them. They were cold, the result of this world he knew so little yet so much of already, and superior. Superior in such a way that Kirk almost felt, for the shortest of moments, that it was as natural as breathing to yield to him. But it was gone in an instant and he once against stood, defiant and lost.

"James," Spock's voice jarred Kirk back, spinning it like a top. "I cannot allow you to leave."

Why the _fuck _not? Kirk snarled to himself, his face twisting harshly.

"I can however, remind you of what awaits you should you comply with those simple rules already laid out. You will not be forced into anything here of which I do not approve. This includes any alteration of your person, mind, or environment beyond those borders I have set. Allow yourself leave of your world and this will be easier for you."

Although he had heard it before, hearing it being told to him again and in such a deceptive tone set Kirk so suddenly off the edge.

"Why would you think I would comply with anything you say?" Kirk growled, not allowing Spock to cut him off as he continued in the same breath, "—You say you knew the other Kirk, the one from this time; was he so different from me that you can't understand how—how barbaric everything you're proposing to me _is_? I won't allow you to control me." Kirk nearly shouted. He paused then, noticing his breathing was barely heavier than normal though his heart pounded in his ears. "I may _never_ leave—as I see your intention is to keep me here against my will—but that in no way means I will ever bend to you as you so blatantly claim I will."

Kirk held his ground. He wasn't sure where that had come from, but he felt a hell better now that he had said it. As he clutched the dagger in his hand he remembered he was holding it.

He looked down, his fury rekindling as he felt the knife's heavily intoxicating weight drawing him in.

It was cold fury. And every second he was restricted to express it by the threat of excruciating pain. This, if anything, made it immeasurably worse. Kirk hadn't even realized it, but now everything crashed down like so many tons of sheet metal. He choked a cry of pain and gripped the knife tighter. The air felt charged, and in a burst of anger Kirk snapped his eyes to Spock and saw incredulity flash in the Vulcan's black soulless orbs for one frozen second.

And then he hurled the knife, making a silent slice through the air.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, what a horrible person I am ;) Hope you can bear to wait, I'll have the next 'part' of this chapter up as soon as I can.

Up next: (if nothing terribly exciting grabs my attention and demands to be written...) Spock inspects his property, sets Kirk in his place, and _maybe_ we'll get to the marking of territory. Fingers crossed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** As I said, short and sweet this time ;) Oh, and I realize I'm not the best at predicting what's coming next, so I think an as-we-go basis from now on would be more fair to you guys. It was becoming ridiculous! xD I'm sorry for that by the way, just know that this only got longer and everything I said is still coming. Aside from that, I want to thank all who commented (including those I could not reply to, and especially to those who wrote wonderful, in-depth reviews!) for the wonderful feedback; keep it up—I love being spoiled by you guys too much ;D And, as always, any suggestions, questions, or comments you have, tell me!

**Learning to Obey**

Before Kirk could breathe, the dagger was solidly embedded in the thickly carpeted floor. He stared challengingly at it. _Who_ he was challenging was another matter. His rage had evaporated, and his breathing came steadier.

He couldn't hurt Spock if it had been his own life on the line. His shoulders dropped when he realized, quietly, the position he had put himself in. He wouldn't physically fight Spock, and he accepted the fact that doing so would not protect him from the Vulcan's own wrath. In all seriousness he knew he should expect quite the opposite of peace. He had severely tempted fate by resisting Spock. Whatever he had expected his night to be like before, he knew it wouldn't be pleasant now.

Despondent, Kirk looked up—just in time to see the glint in Spock's wide eyes, accompanied by the tiniest of open-mouthed surprise. It was a frightening expression; one half mad in such a still form. Kirk felt his heart quicken despite himself and he took a step back when the Vulcan advanced.

In half the time it took for Kirk to process the action, Spock was suddenly pushing him up against the glass.

"_Spock—let—go_—" Kirk choked, clawing at the cold, solid surface as one of Spock's hand tightened on his throat and the other held his hands above his head.

"You will never speak to me in much a manner again, James." Spock was frigid. He held Kirk up as if he was nothing, his eyes boring into Kirk's with a stillness of which Vulcans alone were masters.

Kirk tried to block Spock's words out with a furious intensity that flushed his mind red—but it was like antiseptic in the air, sanitizing and stinging; invasive and whole.

His head silently blared at his failed attempt.

_Spock, watching the empty prison of his mind with him tied down and gagged on the black bottom_. _Spock's voice held him still. _In mind and body, _commanding_ his attention, each word painfully branded onto his consciousness. He stared blindly ahead.

"If you ever disregard this again... I will be forced to take harsher measures." Spock allowed his words to sink in, holding Kirk's throat tightly even though he had stopped struggling.

After a moment of consideration, Spock loosened his grip and tilted his head closer to remind Kirk of his place. Kirk shied away from him but Spock forced the human's weak head forward with an easy movement of his thumb. Kirk didn't resist. He was bitter and let every hate-filled thought crackle through his mind.

"And there are things even _you_ cannot imagine. I would be disappointed... if it came to that." Spock smiled lightly, his dark eyes betraying something too subtle for Kirk to pick up on.

Kirk raised his lips in a snarl.

_I hate you, get the_ fuck_ out of my face! _His eyes screamed but it only seemed to fan the fire; Spock softened, rubbing Kirk's jaw almost lovingly. Amazing himself, Kirk stayed his immediate reaction and coldy dropped his snarl. _If it was going to be like that_...

But the loss of hate in his mind allowed it to wander.

_Brown eyes, the smile so rarely seen now exposed... unnatural..._

It was surreal, as if it was impossible for Spock to smile as smugly as he was or glare at him like he had. Of course he had seen Spock in all moods; his and Spock's relationship had never been perfectly smooth, but it hurt to see on this person, this alien in an alien's body.

As these painful thoughts entered his mind he realized he didn't want Spock seeing it. He tried to empty his mind but it was much more difficult now. He attempted a calming exercise Spock had taught him long ago. _Breathe in... small breaths... and out again..._ even the sound of Spock's voice echoing in his mind helped. He was able to push it all away and concentrate on the here and now, not what Spock was thinking or what he saw, but the condition he was in now. How he needed to be.

Spock noticed the shift in demeanour but did not comment. He held Kirk for several seconds, studying him and eying his relaxed, distant air, before dropping him.

Kirk was not given time to think

"_Hey!_" Kirk felt the tip of Spock's dagger dig into his back. To avoid it, he jerked away and into the middle of the room with a pained grunt. He turned on Spock again but the Vulcan was there, and suddenly pulling him mercilessly close. Kirk cried out in panic but Spock held his hands tightly behind his back.

A hand on his shoulder froze him completely, the unspoken threat a powerful inhibitor. He swallowed, being careful even then not to move too quickly. The fear was paralyzing.

Kirk shook minutely at his completely flush state with Spock. They had never been this close; his body was tense as he naturally strained away. When he achieved even an inch however, Spock would pull him closer. He moaned, sick with the endless game.

Spock held tightly, allowing Kirk several moments to cool down and using the time to integrate the sensation of calm with his own domination over the human's body. He allowed himself the same time to taste Kirk's personal smell, though it was so thick in the air he did not need to move closer.

He paused suddenly. There was _something_—he sniffed the air again in confusion. That scent. That strangely familiar scent, _who—_

Spock's eyes widened in shock and he gripped Kirk tighter. Kirk made a small noise of discomfort and twisted automatically though made no real move to fight. Spock ignored him, his thoughts racing.

That was _his_ scent. But not his. It was his with strange hints of a lifetime of different routes taken and choices made. It was his but with the soft lingering smell of—what was that? An oil, but subtly different than the one he used. There was almost nothing of it left, which was probably why he hadn't noticed it before.

He bristled in annoyance. That was _his_ smell. He realized an instant later this Kirk was more alike to his own than he had initially thought. The extent of the relationship between this Kirk and his Spock was unknown to him, but it had been strong, strong enough for his alternate self to mark Kirk with his scent this heavily, knowingly or not.

The twinge of annoyance returned. He knew without thinking that having Kirk smell like this was not acceptable. He cringed inwardly, smelling it everywhere now.

Kirk yelped, jerking Spock from his thoughts. Without thinking, his mental sensors swept the area and Kirk's body for any signs of danger. There were none.

Kirk shook violently and whined, for a moment fighting something invisible. Spock held him tighter and he whimpered, going still aside from an uncontrollable shaking.

"What was _that_ for?" Kirk gasped, his voice high and strained. He took laboured breaths, his body breaking out into a sweat.

Spock was confused for a millisecond before he realized what had happened; he had—unknowingly—shocked Kirk. He had rarely lost control of his telepathy in the past; why had it suddenly happened now?

Kirk squirmed in agitation and Spock uttered a sharp, low warning. Kirk, for once, heeded him.

In the silence, Spock was made aware of Kirk's waning strength. Knowing it was late and he needed to have this over with quickly, Spock put the irritating development in the back of his mind. Kirk needed to be worn in body and strong in mind for the process to run smoothly; having him so tired mentally was not what he was looking for.

"In a moment I will release you, James; do not move unless I instruct you to do so."

After a second, Spock dropped Kirk and the human instinctually wrenched away. Spock could, however, almost watch the thought process that stopped him from going any further. Kirk was turned away angrily but his eyes flickered to Spock in confused fear. He snapped around, bitter but wary.

Spock held Kirk's eyes for a beat before scanning the floor. The knife glinted, imbedded where it was in the carpet.

Spock crouched down to pull it out as if he had been no more than plucking a flower. He assessed it and noted it was still in relatively good condition despite being hurtled into the solid steel floor. He expected nothing less from the durable dagger, a strong model crafted by a smith on Vulcan. He should not have been so foolish as to leave it around. Even where he normally kept it was obviously not a good enough place with James around.

Without looking at his slave, Spock rose and held the dagger in his hands, as if to inspect it. He watched Kirk out of the corner of his eye.

Though straight and tall again, Kirk's hands balled at his sides and his eyes were hard with resentment and undeniable fear.

"You are aware this dagger is my property, I will assume. As such it demands your respect as I do. You will learn not to ill use anything of which I have control, including yourself. But this will come in time. The consequence of your actions and any actions disregarding this rule are at my discretion. For now I will waver the method's intensity as it is your first offence."

Spock gave Kirk little time to question or ponder his statement. Within seconds Kirk had fallen to his knees with a scream of pain. He clutched his hair and his screams turned to sobs as he bowed his head. Spock stopped, his face a mask as he watched Kirk from behind curtained eyes.

A small, sad sigh escaped his lips.

"Stand up, James." Spock said abruptly. Kirk was already pulling himself up. He paused for a moment and looked like he was about to be sick. He swallowed and swiped at his eyes. When he looked up it was to glare at Spock furiously, his face more red than it had been earlier and his breathing deep and controlled.

"James, you will learn everything you need to know about surviving in this world. I will teach you what you need to know, and the consequences of your actions should you intentionally disregard any rules. for now however, this list of rules is short but important." Spock finally looked up and was met with bitter eyes—it was easy to tell Kirk was too tired to summon his natural defensive haughtiness.

"First, to you I am the only authority you are to acknowledge. This does not mean you will listen to me only; if I give this authority to another you will consider it my word." Spock noted but ignored the wilful, defiant spark in Kirk's eyes. "I have explained the circumstances you find yourself in and have exerted the power I have over you before, but you need to understand what I mean when I explain this right. I am your Master—you may call me this if you wish but I do not demand it; addressing me by rank is also acceptable—You are my property and I am the sole commander of your body. Any action I wish for you to carry out you must or accept any punishment I deem necessary to ensure your cooperation in the future. Here, James," Spock moved closer to Kirk, the knife still in his hands. He noticed Kirk's eyes frequently flitting between him and it, their assurance wavering with each step he took, "rank is protected and fought over with lives."

Spock looked directly into Kirk's eyes.

"Had you succeeded in killing me—" Kirk flinched, "—I would not be here to teach you. And you would have—ultimately—been killed by the crew. They do not take well to slaves who employ murder for freedom and you especially have room for doubt as to their loyalty—not all on board the _Enterprise_ had such faith in her previous captain."

Spock moved silently closer to Kirk, daring the human to move even an iota in the opposite direction.

"Regardless, I am curious," Spock held the hilt delicately in one hand and rested the blade on his other, holding it up as if examining it for his own purposes, "as to where you would have used this weapon on my person."

Kirk was silent, uncertain. He didn't know how to answer that. Spock wasn't actually discussing how he would have killed him_, was he?_

"I know of several places," Spock continued in a monotone, "and the ease at which they can be administered." He looked up.

Kirk stared at him, disoriented and confused. How was he supposed to react? What was he supposed to say to that? He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.

In an instant Spock's whole mood shifted. He stepped away from Kirk into the middle of the room and beckoned Kirk forward, the knife still held like a fragile icicle in one hand.

"Come here, Jim."

If Kirk could have looked any more horrified, it was then. His eyes went very obviously to the knife.

"Why…?" he asked, his voice taking a strange high-pitched tone in nervousness. He almost laughed. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to break this horrible, impenetrable tension. Whatever it was, the thick air, the cold waiting, it was killing him. He had never known anything like it, and he had known a lot of things. This was madness.

"Spock you can't just—" He couldn't just _what? _Spock was holding the knife like he was about to spear him with it. Obviously the Vulcan didn't show any sign of this on his face but what else would he use it for? It was for him.

A panicky feeling rose to his limbs as he battled with what to do. Spock was serious, and if he had any intention of making good on the promises in his speech just then, then Kirk didn't have a choice if he valued a pain-free existence. He stood, frozen to the spot.

"Jim, I must clarify something you misunderstand." Spock offered, gently but firmly reminding Kirk what his options were, in this case, none.

Kirk locked eyes with Spock and managed a defiant glare.

"I am not asking this of you; I am ordering."

When Kirk refused to move Spock sighed almost sadly, resignedly.

"Every second you hesitate is another minute I will deprive you of the nutrients your body is telling you you need. Do not make this mistake."

The threat cut through the stillness.

Without thinking, Kirk began counting.

_One, two, three, four, five, six…_

Minutes. Ten. Fifteen. _Minutes._

That hit him hard. He gaped, and then realized he wasn't exactly helping himself. He didn't doubt Spock would make good on his promise. A second passed, and then Kirk found himself taking slow steps forward until he stood only feet from Spock. He shook.

"Kneel."

Dazed, Kirk did, sliding to his knees. By sheer force of will he kept his arms tensely at his sides. He allowed the loathing and revulsion at the underhanded tactic to show through as he looked up, into Spock's eyes. He hated Spock for doing it but, surprisingly, his anger wasn't directed at the Vulcan. It was just anger. Pure anger at the circumstance which brought them together.

The _helplessness_ of it.

His toes curled under him and he felt confused relief that he wasn't in such a bad position, if not such a degrading one. He relaxed his weight and arched his back so he held himself a little taller. He shifted his hands so they steadied him and, all the time, searched Spock's eyes for any indication of his next move.

Spock twisted the dagger in his hand.

"Where would you have used this on me, James?"

Kirk stared at him. He couldn't believe Spock was asking that of him.

"Jugular vein." He said automatically. It was where he would have gone.

Spock moved behind him and Kirk was reminded of only a few hours earlier. This time Spock seemed more serious. He was cold and completely unreadable. Kirk didn't know what the Vulcan was thinking, and he didn't think he wanted to know. He forced himself to stay completely still even as Spock lightly pressed the knife to his throat.

"Like so?"

Kirk closed his eyes, swallowing uncomfortably.

"Answer me, Jim." The request was light and formal but Spock pressed harder.

"Yes, _there._" Kirk leaned away slightly only to have Spock roughly jerk him back by the shoulder. He thrust his shoulders back in retaliation and moved his hands to his thighs where he could exert some built up tension.

Spock dug the knife in just under Kirk's jaw and the muscles in his neck jumped as he ground his teeth. He wouldn't move. He wouldn't _move_. He didn't exactly know if Spock would really slit his throat or what he was going to do, but not moving was probably the best option… He had just proven to himself that he wasn't getting out of this place anytime soon, anyway. Why would…? Spock wouldn't _really_…?

When veins of pain shot through his neck Kirk couldn't help but grimace. He ducked his head and lifted his shoulders to get away from the pain but Spock only pressed deeper. The pain was increasing, the sharp edge cutting into the hard cartilage of his neck. He hissed low, straining to keep calm. He knew that taking into account the rate Spock was going, the amount of pressure, and angle of the knife, that his neck was nowhere near about to be slit. If anything, the knife would start to crush his windpipe before it cut through. Spock knew this too; his aim was to make him uncomfortable enough to bend, but Kirk wouldn't. He wasn't _designed_ like that…

When Kirk uttered a choked noise, his breathing and heartrate increasing with each second, Spock finally eased.

Kirk relaxed immediately and coughed, taking deep gulps of air. His shoulders dropped and he swallowed, concentrating on getting his breathing back to normal. His heart raced.

Watching Kirk, Spock released the knife and slipped it into his belt. Kirk heard it and looked up at him, anger flashing again in his eyes. He was silent this time, and Spock met his eyes evenly.

"If I ever find... you have attempted such a harmful act upon my person again, James," Spock reached out a hand and coolly took Kirk's chin. Kirk's nose flared and he went rigid, but he did not move. His eyes blazed and his skin burned where Spock's fingers held his jaw.

"I might not be so forgiving."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **It's been a while guys, you all still there? ^^ I am so sorry for taking this long, I'm just transitioning to college and the stress was really dragging on me. Let me just apologize for that in the form of a new chapter, longer than _ever_ before. Apparently I just don't _do_ short chapters. Anyway, does this make up for it? ;) Let me know if you like it, okay? I'd love that ^_^

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_Maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who'd out drew ya  
_

**- X -**

Kirk's head buzzed. It was getting more difficult by the minute to ignore the tight pain in his stomach. Though he worked all of his bitterness into what he hoped was an annoyed expression, it kept slipping as the jaws of hunger and realization snapped at him. His eyes hurt but he stayed keenly aware of Spock's every movement. Bits of thought flitted in and out of his mind but he didn't have the energy to pursue them. It seemed as if his head refused to cooperate with him, now that it had been—_what?_ More than 24 hours. Minimum. He felt Spock's eyes on him, and then the sickening sensation that crept into his stomach. He didn't know if that was because of his hunger or a reaction to Spock.

Kirk looked up on impulse, his intent to catch a quick glimpse of Spock and try not to get shocked for it, but when he did, he couldn't look away.

There was no denying Spock looked… _sad. _Or perplexed at something.

Kirk was trying to make sense of the bizarre expression, when he realized it had changed to that of annoyance and Spock was glaring down at him. Kirk hastily averted his eyes, his heart racing at the confusing rush of information.

Had he _seen_ that right? Spock had never let his guard down like that before. He had looked almost remorseful. About what? And why did Spock look at _him _like that? He couldn't be remorseful about the past day and everything that had happened, that just didn't make sense. What was it then? What in him would make Spock remorseful? Of course, it could have been calculating, which was a strong indication that whatever Spock was feeling even slightly remorseful about wasn't going to change the Vulcan's plans. But… why would Spock take the time and energy to be remorseful about him? Was it because he cared about his wellbeing, or because he wasn't doing _it_ right? Whatever _it _was. Spock wouldn't… he didn't care. And even if he did in any sense of the word… Kirk couldn't allow himself the hope that this Spock harboured anything other than cruel fascination with him. If he did, it was giving in. He knew what happened to those people who started caring about their captors. It would destroy him if he did and turned out to be wrong.

Kirk immediately cleared his mind, turning his attention to something else, _anything _else. If he kept thinking about it—

His nose flared in irritation. He could at least play with the thought that Spock was a manipulative bastard. The Vulcan probably wanted him to think he cared, to insure his cooperation. No; Spock wasn't like that_. His _Spock wasn't anyway; was this one? Could Vulcans even _be _manipulative?

Well, yes, actually. He had to admit even his Spock had toyed with his mind when he wouldn't listen to reason… but this was different. This was cruel.

If Jim felt any kind of compassion _before_ for Spock, now there was nothing but cold anger. He could never really _hate _anyone, but he certainly didn't have to go out of his way to love them.

While all of this was running through his mind, a small part of him acknowledged that even though he now understood Spock's motives just a tiny bit more, it was still pertinent to heed his warning. If only to preserve himself for the present.

Kirk muted his fiery glare to a mask of chilly defiance.

**- X -**

Looking critically at Kirk now, Spock could not help himself from becoming irritated at the human's wayward eyes. He knew it would be like that; he knew _Kirk_, and this Kirk did not seem too different from him. He saw the fire in those crystal blue eyes, the passion he had tried to rein in. His success had not come as he expected, he was sure, because of the intensity of Kirk's spirit. It had taken him years and many battles to realize it was futile to even attempt to control that internal force. By that time, however, Kirk had intertwined himself around Spock, and to alter anything about him was blasphemous. Yet Spock had once again slipped back into the comfortable need to have everything under his command, be that intellect or power. Humans were unpredictable and weak, therefore it was only natural for him to assert control over chaos when the chance arose.

And the situation was different now. This was another person entirely and a completely new set of circumstances. If he wished, he could make Kirk _his_, just as he had the Captain of the _ISS Enterprise_, though it would be in a way specific to these current parameters. He was now in a position of power, one he had not had the luxury of with his Kirk. Their bond had been an equal one and he wondered at the time if such an arrangement could be possible. It had. Yet he had not been completely satisfied with it. Now, however, though he could—if he had mind to—make Kirk _completely_ his, in doing so he would not succeed in keeping what he had grown fond of in his Kirk. Because he could not tame his Kirk, he did not think it was rational of him to assume he could do so with this Kirk. Of course he could always _force_ submission, but... in doing so he would extinguish that fire. And the fire was what he wanted. Only, he wanted it under _his_ control. So, the solution was to dull the spurs, yet not slacken the reins.

This Kirk was also inconsistent from the other humans here. That fire in him was a trait Starfleet looked for, but his was... honest, perhaps. He was not, naturally, tainted with raw ambition nor incessant anger as so many of his kind were.

Spock was drawn to this_ purity_, for reasons he did not entirely comprehend as of late.

If anything it was a welcome change.

And Kirk was, in part, _tabula rasa_; a blank slate. Kirk knew nothing of this harsh world, and the role Spock had in it. Humans and Vulcans had never played well. No, he would need to be trained, and shielded from that until he could be trusted to know, if ever.

Now he needed to be taught; he would not survive on his own.

**- X -**

"James."

Kirk's jaw clenched.

"This is what will happen: I will give you time, now, to properly take care of your hygiene and other… personal matters."

Kirk looked up at him sharply, fiercely indignant at the disgust in Spock's voice.

"If this is not done to my specifications and satisfaction—"

"_What_?" Kirk exploded, his outrage at being told what to do overshadowed by the fact that Spock would _what?—monitor _it? The repugnance of the fact was insulting. "I'm not—"

Kirk was cut off by a web of fire that scorched his veins. He whimpered once, sharply, and drove his palm into the carpet to steady himself. His other hand he clenched as his face became hot and his body futilely attempted to rid itself the sensation. He moaned when it continued, dropping so his forearm carried most of his weight.

In an attempt at control, Kirk furiously bit down on his lip, the only sound, his heavy breathing as it scratched up and down his lungs, tearing up his insides.

He _screamed_ inside his head, aware of nothing but the shock of searing Vulcan dissatisfaction. As it faded, painfully slow, it left a smouldering scar on his consciousness.

"You will _not _question me in such a manner again, James."

Kirk swallowed hard and held his tongue, pushing himself up by sheer force of will. He felt haggard.

He opened his eyes to… _darkness_. Kirk was afraid for one horrible moment that he had gone blind. He waited, deathly still, until, thankfully, sight returned in a gradient. He blinked and shook his head. He buried a hand in his hair, hiding his face.

_This is nothing, you're okay. Breathe, stay calm. Fuck—It's _nothing_. You're _okay_._

Kirk looked up, his eyes finding the wall behind Spock and piercing it stubbornly. If he listened to Spock, it was torture, if he didn't, it was torture still. He needed to learn how to listen and keep his damn mouth shut.

"When I have completed an explanation you may address me in a respectful tone and with the proper title. It will be at my discretion if I allow any questions you wish to ask."

Kirk bristled in simmering resentment as Spock spoke to him in the creamy tones, the need to assert himself a silent blare in the background of his mind.

"You are to take a minimum of one shower a day, after shift, regardless of how clean you judge yourself to be."

In surprise, Kirk was just about to ask—no, _demand—_what the hell he was talking about, but stopped himself at the last second, a guttural noise bubbling up in its place. He snapped his teeth together to silence himself and took a deep breath through his nose. _It's not worth it._

Spock paused and waited, watching Kirk carefully. When nothing came of the short interruption, he continued.

"The duration of which will exceed _no more_ than fifteen minutes. Use of the appropriate soaps I have laid out for you is obligatory unless you decide to use the sonic shower, either of which, I am not particular. Later, I will have a separate place for the items I allow you to use."

Kirk listened testily, his self-control wearing thin. He came to the conclusion that listening now would probably save him a lot of suffering in the future, even if he disagreed with half of everything Spock was saying. He glared at Spock as the alien set down the rules that would encompass his life.

"In the morning you will awake at a set time and take care of your body by shaving and preparing yourself for the day. In time you will learn how to do this so it pleases me, but for now I expect you only to follow what I have said and do as you seem to have done in the past. I will never punish you for an absence of that which I have not made you aware. When I punish you for any wrongdoing, you will know the reason." Spock stopped again; Kirk was looking intently at him, the petty suspicion present along with just a hint of curiosity in his dark eyes.

At least he was listening.

"If you have questions, speak them now."

Kirk glared for a second longer before he spoke.

"You said 'shift', what does that entail exactly?" He was short and to the point, the question scratching his throat. He didn't try and convince himself the one-sidedness of their short _conversations_ was anything but what it was.

"You will work with the crew in the department I decide you are needed in most that day. I may create a permanent post for you eventually."

Great. Unpredictability just when he needed it.

"Rise."

Without many options, Kirk stood warily, having the presence of mind not to keep looking Spock in the eye like he wanted to rip his throat out. That wasn't all that smart if he wanted to keep his metaphorical head. When he thought about it, keeping his head down afforded him the luxury of not having to deal with metal sparing matches with Spock, as much as he _enjoyed_ them.

"Upon finishing this you will change into the clothes I have set out for you and present yourself to me."

Kirk shifted uncomfortably.

"Is this clear?"

Kirk's nose flared.

"_Yes_." the word came out with the inclination that insinuated something along the lines of '…and go fuck yourself.'

Spock lightly jolted him for the tone and Kirk had to grind his teeth to restrain himself from swearing aloud.

"You will address me in the formal 'Sir', accordingly, James; accompanying any question you ask or your answer to any questions I have asked of you, any orders I give, and any and all times you voice your thoughts to me. You shall do the same with any other member of the crew you address in the course of time. You are to follow this without exception."

Here, Spock paused.

"Unless I have said otherwise." His voice held just a note of wariness, as if he knew Kirk _would_ disobey him at some point and he was not looking forward to it.

"Yes, Sir." Kirk said, gathering a somewhat neutral tone. He wasn't exactly respectful, or sarcastic, or even that audible, but Spock accepted it with a small nod.

"Ten minutes from now I expect to find you back here and ready for me. You may go."

Spock saw a glint in Kirk's eye as he was about to answer and Spock stopped him.

"Follow these instructions implicitly, James, or I will not hesitate to ensure your cooperation."

Kirk's eyes flicked to Spock's for a fraction of a second, and Spock saw the burning distain the human held for him there. Dull, though not extinguished.

"Yes, Sir."

**- X -**

Once the door closed behind him, Kirk sagged. Fatigue and an empty stomach were taking their toll. A general ache had descended on him but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He did not want to give in to Spock, but fighting him at every moment would only weaken him further. He loathed the idea of even momentary pacifism but knew its importance as a strategy.

Keeping this and his time limit in mind, Kirk quickly stripped and started the shower. He luxuriated in the hot spray and for the first time in hours, he could actually think without uncertainty tainting his thoughts.

He poured a handful of shampoo and lathered his hair to sudsy cleanliness.

So now he knew what Spock had "in store" for him; he would be a part of the crew while… simultaneously being his personal slave? That was what it seemed like. He didn't know what being a part of the crew and a slave in this place would be like, but he guessed from Spock's attitude toward him and the easy way he had suddenly demanded servitude, it wouldn't be quite as friendly as his own _Enterprise_. He wouldn't be completely defenceless however—at least, he sorely hoped not. He was, if not in technicality, a Captain of a Starship. He knew how to take care of himself. He just… didn't know how slaves were treated here, or if there even were any beside himself. He knew his way around, so in time, if Spock ever came to trust him enough, he could perhaps attempt escape somehow. He had been in scenarios like this before. You worked with what you had.

Although in this situation… he didn't have much. Fuck. He had nothing. No, that wasn't true. He had himself, and that was enough.

And then, the knives and phasers and instruments of torture certainly weren't going to help him achieve that end, unless he could get his hands on one. Which was doubtful.

Shampoo now completely washed out, Jim grabbed the bottle of conditioner and squirted it right into his hair, feeling like giving himself a generous portion. He wondered faintly if Spock would check the level of soap after he was finished. Probably not, seeing as he would most likely take it as him wanting to be _extra clean_. He rolled his eyes half-heartedly, scrubbing in the cupful of chemicals. He knew he could have a sonic shower instead, but he liked the _feeling_ of getting clean. Save the sonic for when he was in a hurry… though now would probably count as "a hurry"—whatever. He felt dirty and was having a shower.

Alright. So most of the crew probably wore phasers and were willing and able to use them. So what? If Spock was going to this much trouble to make him act and live the way he wanted, he would probably take out some kind of insurance that nobody would try and kill him. Jim wasn't willing to bet his life on that guess, but it was a possibility. Not like that really helped anything though; if somebody wanted to stop him, they could, as he wouldn't have much to retaliate with if they sounded an alarm.

And then there was the whole slavery bit. Thinking about it, despite his attempt to feel better in the scalding water and scrape two days' worth of physical and mental sludge from his body, still made him slightly sick to his stomach. Spock wouldn't hesitate to fry the living daylights out of him if he stayed too long in here, or looked at him the wrong way…

Jim shuddered. He remembered in a flash the dozens of shocks Spock had given him in the space of only a few hours. He was all set to resist everything Spock did to him—well, as much as he was able anyway—but that in itself was a pretty real incentive not to. He could handle it, if he made one mistake. They weren't too bad alone. But… _but_.

That 'but' was exactly what Spock wanted. His trepidation, his insecurity. And there was so little he could do. Right now, there was precious little space for any kind of self-righteous rebellion when the memory of those little doses of pain replayed themselves in his mind again and again. He hated that, who _wouldn't?_ He promised himself then and there he wouldn't go by fear and follow Spock's ever word forever, but for now, for the short term, he didn't have much choice.

Reminded of this little point concerning his time, Kirk realized how little of it he had left. What had it been now? _Shit._

He scrambled out of the shower, frantically dried himself off and searched the small room for clothes. Spock said they were laid out—_yes_. He grabbed a folded pile of black fabric that he only _assumed_ would be clothes, and shook it out. A pair of briefs fell to the floor and he was left holding a pair of long pants. He shook the pants out, looking for another piece. There must be a shirt somewhere… Kirk stared at the pants, then down at the briefs.

Fuck. Him.

His eyes shifted to his gold command shirt on the edge of the sink. Still bright, cheery and comfortable-looking despite the shit it'd been through. Kirk felt a strange tug at his chest. He wouldn't be seeing that for a while. He took a fold in his hand, gently rubbing the durable material. Though it had only been a few years since the beginning of his captaincy—and the disgusting Nero event that started it all—he had poured his soul into that time. His crew too; they _all_ had. And they were all… out there, somewhere. Doing what he couldn't now.

He gripped the shirt tighter, the emotional bond making it harder and harder to let go—_let go._

Unexpectedly, a shock twisted up his spine and jerked him upright. He gasped, releasing the fabric. It fell to the floor in a pile.

"I'm _coming_!" he fairly growled, snatching up the boxers lying on the tile. He jerked them on one-handed. The pants next. The elastic pulled snug against his stomach. After a pause of a held breath, Kirk snatched his shirt off the cool floor and held it tightly. He glanced to the laundry chute, unwilling to dissolve the only physical thing he had left of his own world.

He knew he didn't have much time, so he finally pushed aside his thoughts and dropped the material into the chute. Something dropped inside of himself as he did so, sinking down to the pit of his stomach and making him feel queasy and alone.

A chill swept through him. He caught his own eyes in the mirror. He was shocked at how much darker they were, how little hope there seemed to be within them.

He swallowed, taking one last breath of freedom.

**- X -**

The first thing Kirk noticed was a steaming bowl of something sitting on the counter; the smell reached his nose just as he inhaled. _God, that smells good._ Kirk opened his mouth automatically, his taste buds watering. Or not; his mouth was so dry. He licked his lips.

"James."

Kirk jerked his head in Spock's direction; the Vulcan waited for him, his irritation plain from the dark set of his eyebrows and the heavy-lidded gaze fixed solely on him. Jim clenched his jaw, tensing automatically at the hostility.

Spock's eyes dipped down and then came up again, stopping on his damp hair. Kirk bristled, crossing his arms defensively and glowering back.

That hair. It looked as if he had completely ignored the hairbrush sitting on the counter. Strangely to Spock, however, the look was not unacceptable. Drops of water glistened on the dark ends. In tandem with the ferocity of his expression, the effect was somewhat pleasing.

Spock stepped up to him and Kirk ducked his head but did not back down quite yet. It was when Spock approached him further that Kirk shied away instinctually. He hadn't really moved all that far, but before he could think, Spock had his wrist and was twisting it—twisting _him_—hard around. Kirk cried out in pain as he fought for the briefest of moments to evade Spock. Spock easily took Kirk's other arm and pulled them together like a cross to hold with one hand. His other hand he used as hook on Kirk's jaw, bringing it up so Kirk was held prostrate in an unnatural curve into Spock's body. Spock buried his nose in the crook of Kirk's shoulder, breathing in the warm fear that rolled off him in waves. Kirk struggled vehemently, swearing in his cacophonous Terran language as Spock held tighter.

"Be still, _Human_. You are mine and you will do as I command." He softly hissed in Kirk's ear over his cursing and viable resistance. "Relinquish control and I will not bind you so tightly."

As he spoke, uttering low assurances and gentle half-truths, he gradually forced the human to his knees, himself adopting a half-kneeling position.

"You do not choose. You are _told_."

Kirk went down easily, his strength a fraction of what he was capable. As Spock manipulated him into the painfully restrictive position, he seemed to realize what he was doing and his profanity trickled down to jerky gasps and the occasional little cry as Spock shifted his fingers or breathed cool breath on his prickled and pounding flesh.

"…And you _obey_," Spock whispered this almost as an incantation, and as the heat from the shower, his words, and Kirk's exhaustion finally took their final toll, the human eased into his waiting arms.

Worn, deep down to his core, Kirk closed his eyes, miserable, sick and tired—so_ tired. _Spock was cool under him, and seemed to act as a conductor, drawing away all of his hurt and ache.

Spock allowed Kirk a minute to calm, feeling, through Kirk, his resistance dry up as a river during summer heat. Although it was not a pretty thing, he could not deny the palatable tenderness he suddenly needed to express.

Head still bent aside Kirk's ear, Spock turned towards his hair, breathing in the clean, _human_ scent now mostly untainted by foreign smells. The shampoo laid out by him had no artificial scents and allowed nothing besides what was natural to be left behind. It also made detecting dirt or foul odour that much easier, and it was simply in good taste to have Kirk groomed to his liking at all times. Anything less was unacceptable. However, the the smell of a mate—especially a Vulcan—did not disappear easily. Though that would be corrected soon, it was an improvement for the time being.

"Remain as you are," Spock warned as he dropped his hand from Kirk's jaw to finger a lock of moist hair. To his credit, Kirk's only movement was a barely noticeable twist of his head. He barely breathed as Spock gently palpated his hair.

"Very good," Spock brushed his cheek and Kirk winced, internally beating himself up over not doing anything about it.

His train of thought was diverted when the pressure binding his hands together vanished. He didn't move, too afraid Spock would do _something—_and he was not given time to gather himself anyway, as Spock once more had a hand on his arm and was pulling him up—just a bit kinder this time, for which Kirk was marginally grateful. He rose without protest.

Kirk looked to Spock as the cold alien released him, and was surprised though not extremely so, to see him take the length of black sash that hung knee-length from his waist and slip it from his belt. It looked to be made of something akin to silk. Kirk watched, tense and wary of his captor, as Spock nimbly twisted the length into a small loop.

"Give me your hands."

Spock looked up when Kirk did not react instantly. Kirk's eyes were intent on the sash, his hands balled and held close to him.

"James."

Kirk's eyes snapped to his and Spock held the human's shaky gaze. He extended an unthreatening up-turned palm.

At the back of his mind, Spock expected rebellion. Despite this he performed every action with meticulous meaning; to convey an air of authority would lead to Kirk's _eventual _submission. It was a simple tactic, but he was prepared to change at a moment's notice to accommodate Jim's human irrationality. He knew humans could and did change their minds almost at random; even long-trained, trusted human slaves occasionally acted unexpectedly. If he did not handle a situation correctly, Kirk could be left floundering with dangerous questions like who he should turn to and who Spock was to him. That moment of question needed to be avoided at all costs.

Kirk flustered, anger and confusion once again pulling him in different directions.

"I—" he pulled his hands up to his chest and Spock noted the instinctual reaction. He stayed where he was and kept his face free of judgement, only understanding. He needed to have a connection with Kirk if they were to make any progress.

"I will not hurt you." He knew to use a low voice, as if talking to a scared animal. "Do as I say, _now, _James_."_

The force with which Spock spoke made Kirk turn away but… look back, and then up. Spock nodded the tiniest bit, and Kirk relented. Spock snatched the opportunity and stepped forward, taking Kirk's hands and slipping the loop around them like a noose, drawing the circlet to a firm knot before Kirk had any time to react.

Kirk swallowed the sickness in his gut as the fabric seemed to bind his body frozen still, extending all the way down to the floor and rooting him to the spot.

"Sir?" he asked softly.

"Yes, James."

Kirk watched almost in a daze as Spock tied the intricate knots around his wrists, securely yet not roughly.

"What are you doing now?" it was hesitantly asked, yet if Spock didn't answer him Kirk thought he would go insane.

"It is necessary… for me to examine your physical and mental states using a Vulcan practice that requires physical contact. This will allow me to better understand your internal processes." As Spock gently wove the fabric he felt Kirk begin to shake and his breathing quicken. "My hands will be as receptors along your skin. For the duration of this I will not shock you and you may ask anything you wish—within reason—and only if you obey my every word without comment. If you do not obey me I have methods to ensure your cooperation, methods I guarantee you would not appreciate. I do not wish to exact these upon you, James, but I will not hesitate to do so if you displease me."

Kirk went red; even tired and half-starved he hated being talked down to.

"Make note James, simply because I choose to physically restrain you does not give you the right to show defiance to me in any form—I expect you to understand and act in accordance with this."

Kirk huffed. Without missing a beat, Spock jerked the rope tight and Kirk plunged forward with a shocked whimper. He shrunk down under Spock's glare, curling his hands instinctually. He tried to get as far away from Spock as the rope would allow, but he was still far too close for comfort.

"_Never._"

Kirk flinched at the harsh tone as if each word cut into his bare skin. "Show defiance to _me. _Or anyone on this ship who is not of a same standing as yourself. Not _physically_, _vocally_, or _otherwise_." Spock pulled him an inch closer. "Is. This. _Clear_?" He glared down at Kirk, his eyes afire with an intense burning reality.

Kirk opened his mouth, but had to swallow to make words form on his lips.

"_Yes_. Yes—_Sir_." he stammered, cursing himself for making a sound in the first place.

Spock held Kirk a moment longer, and then loosened his grip on the chord. Kirk straightened slowly, averting his eyes yet finding nowhere to look that didn't remind him of where he was. He opted to keep his eyes downward. It was somewhat soothing, or numbing.

Once finished by lacing the end between folds, Spock held Kirk's hands still by twisting his finger in the underside of the binding while simultaneously unclasping a tiny silver ring from his belt. This he held up to inspect, and Kirk could not hold back his curiosity. The ring was completely silver but for a tiny light shining bright green. Kirk's interest was dulled by the knowledge that whatever it was, it was not for his comfort.

Spock turned Kirk's hands parallel to himself by twisting them up. Kirk turned away in denial, too tired to fight but still aware enough to be bitter about his situation. He heard the click and saw out of the corner of his eye Spock attached the ring onto the top slender fold. It didn't look like it did anything…

Without a word, Spock took his communicator from its clip and pressed one button. This prompted the ring to rise up seemingly of its own accord. Kirk sucked in a breath as the thing lifted his hands up until they were above his head.

"What _is_ that?" He panicked, wriggling as the device made it suddenly difficult to draw breath. Spock watched passively, his eyes on Kirk and his hand on the communicator. Moments later the device lowered, to Kirk's immense relief, until his arms were at mid-chest level. He breathed a sigh of relief as welcome oxygen flooded his lungs. Spock returned the communicator to his side.

Kirk looked up; there was nothing connecting the ring to the ceiling yet it still kept up the steady green blink.

"Magnetic?" he pondered softly, and then wanted to hit himself.

"Affirmative." Spock said without tone, turning his eyes to the human's body.

Kirk's breathing was relaxed, and Spock could hear his steady heartbeat, just past the normal beats per minute of a healthy human male, as was expected. If he had been calmer Spock would have been worried. At certain times being nervous was to be expected in humans, and even healthy. He could not imagine himself being nervous for any reason, but it was illogical to expect the same for another of a different species.

Spock went around Jim to his desk where he rubbed a mild sanitizer into his hands.

"Relax." Spock said gently as he turned around, sensing the human's disquiet. Kirk had become jittery, and the feeling magnified when he wasn't sure where Spock was. Spock approached Kirk and faced him, clawing eye contact from the human. Kirk held his eyes but just barely, the fear of a cornered animal threatening to infect and take over his now fragile psyche.

"As before, James," Spock started a commentary to keep Kirk calm, "I will not harm you without cause or warning." Kirk's eyes went wide as if he didn't altogether believe him, his eyebrows drawn and his lips pressed together.

"At the present time I will inspect you for various purposes, one of those medical to allow me to know your body as well as—and perhaps even more than—you do yourself. The purpose of this will become clear should something occur, prompting my intervention. You have nothing to fear, James; do not fight this."

Spock closed his eyes for a moment, taking even breaths, before carefully laying his hands on each side of Kirk's waist. A shock of information, feelings, _fear_, _rebellion, confusion _pouring in through Kirk's skin. Kirk inhaled sharply and went rigid at the touch, clenching his hands and exerting all of his energy into not completely freaking out. Spock felt Kirk's heartbeat rise to a pounding rhythm. Kirk looked down to see Spock's hands on his torso, and then up at the Vulcan to gauge his intentions, not that there was much to read on his stony features.

Spock opened his eyes to meet Kirk's anxious ones. _Calm, peace, safety, _he sent in a stream through Kirk's skin. These were just feelings, not full thoughts or words as a full bond was needed for that, but Kirk's reaction was nonetheless perceptible. Spock felt it in the way Kirk subconsciously settled, if only a tiny amount.

Kirk was subtly aware these feelings that swept through him, though he didn't really know why he felt them. Wherever they had come from, he took them and held them close, just relieved and subconsciously comforted to know he wasn't completely alone.

Spock did not hide his movements. He kept eye contact and moved his hands counter clockwise around Kirk's body so his right hand was on Kirk's back and his left, his abdomen. As his hands touched this sensitive area, Kirk jumped as if he had been touched by heated prongs, his abdominal muscles clenching as he came back to ground zero with an intake of breath. He looked away, and Spock saw the tension and sadness in his eyes. He had expected Kirk's reactions to this and the afterward attempt at control; he was, relatively speaking, somewhat pleased by the outcome. Kirk was moderating his movements and showing a noticeable amount of self-discipline, aside from the occasional skittish jerk. And for his first few hours, that was something to be noticed.

Spock's sensitive fingers had already begun to relay information about Kirk's internal processes.

The human's skin was cooler than his core temperature, and Spock sensed the difference between his and Kirk's to be precisely 7.6 degrees Fahrenheit, with himself at 91 and Kirk, a higher 98.6.

"…Intervene?" Kirk asked tightly.

"In an emergency." Spock said this without judgment, and Kirk was for once grateful for his neutral tone. "Though if it is not enough, the doctors here will suffice." Spock probed under Kirk's ribs and around his side, gently pressing his fingers into the groves of his rib cage. He memorized everything.

"What… _kind_ of an emergency are you talking about?" Kirk's voice threatened to break but he held it in and winced when Spock hit a tender spot. In a rush, he remembered a few weeks ago. He had gotten into a little brawl on starbase 11 with an Orion's boyfriend. He hadn't known they could hit so hard. Of course, he couldn't blame the guy, he just hadn't understood why his _girlfriend_ had batted her eyelashes at him in the first place, even if she _was _Orion.

He winced again; Spock was rubbing circles around the sore spot.

"_Ow_." He said pointedly, "Would you stop that? _Please,_" he tacked on at the end, grimacing as tendrils of pain shot up his spine. He was unaware of the sharp look Spock directed at him, but the Vulcan did not press Kirk's lack of formality.

"You have a bruise."

"_Yeah_." He said, more irritated with himself than anything. "That's what happens when girls don't let you know they're not exactly looking to be picked up," he grumbled. "Didn't do much damage, Bones did a good job of—" He stopped mid-sentence, his words loosing velocity like a mid-flight car crash. He cleared his throat, none to subtly trying to backtrack, before realizing that Spock wasn't even listening to him. In fact, he wasn't even in the room. Kirk swivelled in all directions, finally seeing the Vulcan emerge from the bathroom with a tiny container in his hand.

Spock unscrewed the lid and knelt down, the smallest hint of a cease between his eyebrows.

"What's that?" Kirk asked without thinking as he watched with slightly suspicious interest as Spock unscrewed the lid.

"What—" he was cut off by an irritated growl and Spock was suddenly quite close to his face. Kirk jerked back in surprise.

"I allow you questions on the basis you address me correctly. Your failure to uphold this will leave me no choice but to revoke this allowance." Kirk stared at him, frightened by the outburst. "You wished to voice a query?" Spock prompted somewhat tensely, trying at least to calm himself. He had not slept since Kirk's arrival and he found himself more irritable than usual.

Kirk was silent for a beat, before continuing hesitantly, "The… ingredients? I'm just allergic… to a lot of things. Sir." He blushed.

Spock sighed, regretting his hastiness. He knelt again and dipped a finger into the white cream. As he began to apply it to Kirk's side he spoke quietly. "Assuming you and your counterpart are similar, I will not allow you to come into contact with anything that could trigger an allergic reaction. This is a remedy made from the bacawa tree on Vulcan. I have had it many years dating back to my childhood; I would not be using it if I thought it anything but helpful."

Though he suddenly had to concentrate on staying perfectly still in lieu of the cold cream, Kirk was struck, and a bit unnerved by, the attention Spock was suddenly giving his wellbeing. Taking into account everything that had happened, he felt he had every right to be just a bit suspicious. It was confusing behaviour on Spock's part. One minute he was pushing him up against walls and the next he was treating previous injuries as if he hadn't just inflicted some himself.

Spock did not react to Kirk's tense state, continuing methodically and rubbing with two fingers until the medicine was invisible.

For several minutes, Kirk felt only coolness on his skin, but then the area flared in heat and dissipated in the same second. Kirk hissed, tensing his arms at his sides. He rubbed at the spot with his elbow in irritation.

"What's _in _that?" he growled rhetorically, scratching at the spot as best he could. He groaned. It itched like a mosquito bite. "And how is it supposed to _help_?"

"Do not touch it; you are only agitating the skin." Spock watched Kirk wriggle, on the verge of retraining him himself. "The irritation will go away, and so will the bruise."

Kirk looked up in surprise at Spock's authoritative yet subtly concerned tone but he had turned away to return the jar to the bathroom. Kirk dug his elbow into his side anyway. It seemed to help for a few moments but then the infuriating sensation only came back with a vengeance. He took a mental step back, thinking that maybe Spock was right. He shuddered and swallowed hard, his arms shaking at his sides as he attempted _not _to use them as a scratching device.

When Spock returned, Kirk watched his every move intently. Spock was contemplative, as he stood with his hands held behind his back. His eyes fell on Kirk's and Kirk held the contact quietly and without threat.

Spock moved behind him, and Kirk turned to follow him automatically to which he received a scalding look from Spock. Kirk muttered a low "Sorry," and bit his lip, turning back despite a desperate need to know what Spock was doing. He tensed, feeling Spock's eyes on him.

"If I direct you to stay in a position I expect you will stay there until I have said otherwise, James."

Embarrassed, Kirk turned red and pushed his shoulders back.

For everything Spock had already done to him, Kirk was still not ready for Spock's cool hands on his shoulders. He inhaled sharply and ground his teeth, holding in a groan.

All too suddenly, Kirk felt a sharp stab of betrayal twist in his gut. Spock—_his_ Spock—didn't deserve this. He shouldn't be letting this Spock touch him like this—_at all_—but… if he _didn't_… His head pounded and became hot. He was still very vulnerable, physically, and now he was trapped between loyalty to his Spock and the threat of harm from this other Spock.

Was it better to refuse the domineering alien as best he could in spite of what he knew would happen if he did? Or should he allow it in favour of protecting himself? He didn't want to be riddled with guilt over not trying to defend himself, but he had already tried that, and it wasn't like he wouldn't try in the future. He was just so powerless right now he couldn't see how he could restrict Spock's access to his body or mind. It seemed a lost cause. But… Spock didn't really have his mind. If there was anything Kirk could keep of himself, it could be that. If only just his mind.

Jim tried to settle at the new plan, but, at the back of his mind he was reminded of that _undeniable _sense of togetherness that had linked him with Spock. He had never asked about it, but he knew almost subconsciously it was some kind of supernatural bond between them. Whenever Spock was away he would literally feel it_ in his bones _that something was wrong, that something wasn't _right _with the world, his world. _Their _world.

He remembered a time when Spock had taken a hit on an away mission, and even though he had been in another part of the settlement entirely, something had bitten hard at his chest for just a moment before that sense of _Spock_, there, always at the back of his mind, had been cut off entirely. He had been almost in shock at the sudden pain that flooded him for that one second, and then afterwards when there was nothing. From one extreme to the other he had learnt true suffering. Physical first, and then the mental mind-numb that came with a severed limb. Like something tangible was missing.

Holding himself together had been a struggle, but he soon learned there had been an ambush. The team had been beamed back onto the ship immediately afterward, for which he was extremely grateful to scotty for his quick action, but he had been furious at the local government who were as in shock as they were. After tedious talks with that authority to assure them the group was in no way associated with the government, he finally made his way back to the _Enterprise_'s Medical Bay, where found Spock in something of a coma. That had given him a small heart attack until Bones could explain in rushed medical jargon Kirk had to strain to keep up with that Spock was under some kind of Vulcan trance.

He knew, deep in his gut, that it had been Spock trying to protect him from that pain. It also made him aware of their bond, one he had no former knowledge of. He and Spock never spoke of it, but he always felt comforted at its presence. There was a feeling of safety at being in such close mental contact with Spock, even if it ended there. There had been many times Kirk found solace in that simple secret intimacy; if he was dealing with particularly frustrating aliens or trying desperately to get his ship and crew out of a tight spot, knowing Spock was there gave him that extra bit of strength to do that much better or be calm in a stressful situation. Sometimes that Vulcan rationale spilt over into him and he found himself seeing things from a neutral standpoint, which came in handy when the aggressiveness in him risked the mission at hand. It was at those times he had silently thanked Spock for being there.

Reversely however, it meant that Kirk felt Spock's suffering, and felt it he did when Spock had been hit, even for just a moment. Later, he had realized the sacrifice Spock must have made cutting off that link when he had been in so much agony. A split second of time he must have had to decide that it was too much, especially when Jim hadn't even known about the bond, to sever it. If Jim had known about it, it could have helped Spock ease the pain, but Spock hadn't even known where Jim had been or what he was doing, and that had been an impossibility at the time.

Jim had taken Spock's hand as he lay in the infirmary, and had been shocked at the rush of strangely controlled mental chaos that hit him. Spock had been working hard to fix himself up, using his limited stores of energy. Kirk tried to let Spock know he wanted to help, and after a few minutes a hint of awareness seeped into Jim's mind. He nearly sobbed. He had spent hours upon hours at Spock's bedside after that, staying close until Spock finally woke.

That feeling of trust and love came back to him then, what Spock did for him, and why. This Spock would never have that. Even though Kirk didn't have that tangible, quantifiable link to Spock he would have had otherwise, he knew it _would_ be there. Just because something was lost from view didn't mean it had disappeared. If there was one thing this world would not take from him, it would be Spock. Or the knowledge that he was never alone. That _there was someone_ out there, who wished him to be strong.

Kirk swallowed as this Spock's hands fluidly massaged his shoulders, firmly and purposefully moving towards his neck. The chill was almost therapeutic.

Kirk tensed his shoulders uncomfortably, realizing with a start Spock was doing quite the same thing his Spock had many times, the only difference being the intention behind it. If he could possibly forget where he was, he might have been able to relax under the purposeful alien hands. But of course he wouldn't; he couldn't even allow himself to _imagine _there were any similarities between this Spock and his. It was a betrayal to even consider it. No, comparing the two in such a dangerous way could not be healthy.

Spock rubbed his shoulders scientifically, his objective to gain information as quickly and schematically as possible. Spock's hands were, after Kirk had gotten over the invasive situation in which they mapped his skin, quite gentle. The Vulcan stopped at certain points to press his thumb deeper into a crevice or hold motionless for several seconds. Kirk guessed he was gaining knowledge of his body through telepathy. Like an x-ray? He buried the need to ask how it worked.

This continued, and throughout the rest of the informal examination, Kirk noticed Spock never strayed to his head or face, almost as if he was consciously avoiding it. Kirk didn't want to think too much on it because he knew Spock obviously wanted to 'understand' all of him, however uncomfortable he was to the idea. He would get there eventually, Kirk knew uneasily.

Spock took his time, slipping his hand under Kirk's pants to run his hands along his legs, and then around his feet, at one point asking for Kirk to lift up one and then the other. Finally, he withdrew. Kirk didn't think it was over, much to his chagrin, and he was right. Spock came around to face him, his eyes intent on Kirk's.

So that was why he had avoided his face; he wanted to see Kirk while he was doing it. Kirk wanted to look away but he forced himself to hold the eye contact and resist the urge to move back. Spock gently took his jaw, and Kirk flinched. Heat flooded his face and he looked away.

To his shame, Spock lifted his jaw firmly and forced his head up so his jawline was nearly level, then released him.

Though Spock did not _order_ him to keep the position, Kirk knew Spock expected him to. What made blood pound in his veins and colour his face was that he would. He would hold his head up as Spock took his time, looked at him. He would because he had to, because free will didn't even came into the equation now, and because he simply had no other choice.

Spock slipped his hand to Kirk's throat. Kirk's heartbeat increased and he shifted uncomfortably as Spock carefully probed his neck, feeling the ligament and muscle for any abnormality. Spock did trust medical instruments to a degree, but he was far more certain of his own capabilities. Though not a doctor by profession, he was intimately familiar with the human body. If Kirk was coming under his care he needed to be sure there were no underlying situations of which he was not aware. To be sure of this, he had needed to examine Kirk's internal and external body. Though relatively stressful for the human, he did his best to ease that. So far Kirk was responding far better than he had anticipated.

Spock took a small light from his jacket and shined it in Kirk's ears, then his eyes.

"You may rest." Spock said finally. _Now_ was the rather difficult part.

Kirk blinked to get his vision back, and then looked up at him hesitantly.

"Open your mouth, James."

Kirk's eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise, right before he slammed it shut again. Cold resistance whirled into his eyes, yet Spock could see it was accompanied by just a touch of fear. Kirk futilely looked for a means of escape, but Spock showed none.

"Without delay, James." Spock urged. When Kirk didn't respond, Spock slid a hand to the back of his neck, his chief priority to assimilate Kirk to his touch while also assuring him there was no danger in it. This time, the motion had the added effect of reminding Kirk who held the power. Kirk cringed away from him.

"Look at me."

Kirk did, his mouth still firmly shut.

"James, I only require a visual. I will not touch you."

After a moment of deliberation, Jim slowly opened his mouth. Spock quickly shined the light inside and scanned his teeth.

Satisfied, he flicked the light off. He rubbed the back of Kirk's neck in appreciation.

"Thank you, James." Spock removed his hand.

Kirk stared at him. His stomach growled and he grimaced. The hunger was now biting into the lining of his stomach, creating an ache that extended all the way up his chest.

A click alerted him Spock had released the magnetic device moments before his hands dropped down. He resisted the urge to fall to the floor with them, forcing his back straight.

Spock came up to him and, for once, Kirk didn't flinch away. Spock efficiently untied his hands and Kirk actually smiled at the freedom, bringing them up to wrap around his arms. He sighed as he shook the kinks out.

"That feels good. Thanks. Sir."

Spock hid a smile as he slipped the sash onto his arm and said in what could just barely be classified as a monotone: "Now for those twenty minutes I promised you."

**- X -**

_And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not someone who's seen in the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_


	7. Chapter 7

_"A sacrifice is best refuted by accepting it."_

~ Wilhelm Steinitz

* * *

"You will stay as you are for the duration of the period."

Kirk glanced up sharply, remembering. He hadn't done anything but _hesitate _for god's sake.

"Do not speak. Do not move. Do not give me reason to prolong or expand your punishment. I expect this will reinforce positive future behaviour. If it does not - it will be repeated."

Kirk met Spock's challenging eyes evenly. Hot words ghosted across his tongue before rational thought caught up with him. He averted his eyes subserviently, though he couldn't relax his tight fists.

"After this _punishment, _sir_…_ do you plan on starving me? Are you aware I'm _human? Sir._" He couldn't help but spit the words.

"I am aware of your species, James, as I am aware of your current level of hunger." Spock's eyes were sharp as he picked up a PADD and turned to it distractedly, his fingers dancing on the glass. "Twenty minutes is not a sufficient amount of time for your body to cease functioning."

Before Kirk could dispute this, he gasped as an explosion of electric impulses traveling through his nervous system jerked his shoulders back and tore at his ability to stand. Spock did not look up from scanning the day's reports. He sat down at the desk and switched on the main console.

Kirk ground his teeth, groaning and fighting for control of his muscles as the pain radiated down his spine. His nails dug into his palms and his heart hammered in his chest.

Unaffected by physical pain, Kirk's hearing was acute and his attention suddenly diverted as his body searched for distraction. Spock, typing; his fingers hitting the glass in quick succession. The noise was dull and faint, but it echoed in the silent room.

The sound of Spock working; he missed that. He missed the ease at which he had been able to just _watch_ Spock, before...

Spasms, light, but exhausting, shook through his body. He breathed in heavy, halting stops and starts in an attempt to suppress them. His heart eventually calmed, smoothing to an even rhythm, but he kept his eyes shut.

He swallowed. His pulse pounded thick and slow in his ears. Was he on the floor? He didn't remember falling. The carpet met his searching fingers and he blinked. He lifted his eyes to Spock, and glared.

For the full twenty minutes, Spock remained, attention averted. Kirk remained, his attention on Spock, despite knowing any attempt to annoy him was futile and even dangerous to his health.

Kirk's fatigued eyes protested but he didn't look away, didn't move for the chance to catch Spock's eye. It was passive aggressive, of course it was, but he needed an outlet, something to channel his anger into. And yet, he couldn't keep it up. This Spock was, in practically every physical way, identical to his Spock. To continue feeling any kind of hatred was so _unnatural_…

He couldn't help comparing the two. Despite their similarities, their differences were obvious. He couldn't help staring at this Spock and seeing those things – subtle as they were – which marked him as different.

Spock's eyes sternly roamed the page, his eyebrows drawing together as if he was loathe to be responsible for sorting out the transgressions of a miscreant crew. His sharp fingers speared the flat keys as he typed.

His Spock was softer, easier. His eyes rarely drew together; if they did, something was usually terribly wrong – or the mainly human crew of the _Enterprise_ had done something that, for whatever reason, just didn't click with his entirely rational mind. It was sort of cute. Especially when his cheeks would flush green when he realized Kirk had been staring at him. Always surprised. He liked to tease Spock; he would grin seductively, prompting Spock to put his head back down, eyes a little wider, heartbeat fluttering just a bit faster. Kirk knew. He had laid his hand on Spock's side more than a few times, but once - just for that. He had closed his eyes, and a strong, steady vibration sang its way into his bones.

He always loved to brush the back of his palm against that spot, so much lower down than a human's, when they were on duty. So few people knew Vulcan biology, nobody commented. A side-long glance always affirmed that Spock liked it; his lips would quirk up ever slightly at the contact. He treasured the times when they were alone and he could press his ear to Spock's heart, wrapping the Vulcan in his arms and working his way up with slow kisses and deliberate fingers…

The smile playing on Kirk's lips vanished as Spock twitched. He rose when Spock did, a dark cloud falling over him as if a thunderstorm were near. Ready for whatever Spock threw at him, Kirk clenched his jaw.

Spock glanced his way as if assessing some part of him. Kirk sneered. To his surprise, however, Spock moved past him without another look. The bowl on the counter caught Kirk's eye – the one he had seen steaming hours ago, now – just as Spock slipped it into the replicator. The machine sparked, and Spock took the bowl out again. Steam curled from the white rim as if freshly cooked. Spock came over to him and Kirk glared.

"Sit." Spock's eyes betrayed nothing of his intentions. The instinctual fear of dropping his guard made Kirk kneel slowly. He never took his eyes from Spock's.

Spock held the bowl out to him.

"Eat."

Kirk's eyes snapped from Spock to the bowl and back, his stomach clenching cruelly at the prospect of food. He forced himself to be cautious – it could be a game. Spock could easily snatch it away without a second thought.

Spock – motionless – only stared coldly back at him, his face void of any smug teasing.

Kirk didn't move; the fear of Spock, of him pulling the bowl away, was too much. Even as his body cried out to him. Even as Spock's irritation grew. But inaction was worse. Inaction was dangerous.

Shakily, Kirk reached out for the bowl, his eyes flicking over the contents. Mixed greens. His mind rushed to the feel of them, the taste of them on his tongue and he had to stop himself from snatching the bowl away too fast. His eyes never left Spock's for more than a second.

Even when he was left holding the warm ceramic, Kirk dared not look away.

Spock twisted his hand and a silver fork appeared suddenly, as if out of nowhere. Kirk's heart rate jumped and he clenched his jaw. He waited for Spock to hand him the blunt end, and took it just as cautiously.

Spock resumed working at his computer.

A desperate, wild side to Kirk made him watch Spock with guarded suspicion. Steam ceased to rise from the food before Kirk finally glanced down and up again. He took the fork and only allowed himself to look away from Spock for the length of time it took to spear a green bean.

After a few minutes however, hunger came like a hurricane and he turned his full attention to the food, savouring the feeling of fullness and warmth. It took Kirk two minutes to finish the bowl.

* * *

Kirk wrapped his arms around himself to fight off a sudden chill. It was strange – why did he feel nervous when Spock left him? The only thing separating him in the bedroom from Spock in the main room, was a thin wall. The door wasn't even closed. He could hear Spock doing… something.

His hunger now satisfied, it was difficult to think, to fight, when a heavy drowsiness steadily crept through his veins. He closed his eyes, just for a minute.

What was Spock doing? It wasn't ever… ever good, if Spock left him alone.

Kirk shook his head and took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. Fuck, he was tired. He could hear the replicator's hum; most likely Spock recycling the bowl. He slumped. It was infuriating not being able to do anythingbut _wait_. Dammit. Thought he could just _leave_ him there, the goddamn mother—

"Kneel, on the bed, Kirk."

—_fucker. _

Kirk's nose flared, but he contained any other outward signs of hostility. If Spock kept this up he would go prematurely gray. Not that he expected to be around that long. His Spock _and _this one were damn silent sons of bitches. For his Spock he said it fondly. For this one, not so much.

Kirk was just about to stand up_ – _as Spock _ordered – _when a jolt of energy singed his temples. In surprise at the sudden shock, Kirk whipped to his feet and spun around.

"_What _is your—"

Spock slapped him.

Kirk's head cut a sharp turn and his cheek bloomed red. It was so unexpected he was stunned into silence, his breathing halted.

He stared at the wall, fighting the chills that ran up his spine and the unhelpful need to retaliate.

When the crushing carbon dioxide buildup in his lungs became too much, he exhaled in a rush. He paused even then, until _the_ _need _clawed its way up his chest and he sucked in another lungful, forced to breathe. Forced to live. He tried to be silent, but it felt as if the air was scratching at his lungs as nature pushed the cruel rhythm from his body.

With effort, Kirk straightened his posture. It took him several minutes to finally slide his eyes fearfully to Spock, almost as if Spock's gaze alone could burn him. And then, something hit him like a kick to the gut. A kind of gravity had shifted. His body – _his movement_ – was no longer governed by the space around him, or his thoughts directing it what to do. No, no. It was Spock. Spock who, even as he stood several feet away, held him still. But unlike those first few hours in which Spock had forced him into immovability, now it was something more. Something he didn't even understand. He was aware he was waiting for Spock's go-ahead. He was _waiting_ for Spock to give the order.

The moment lasted a split-second. Kirk's eyes were locked on Spock's

Spock – his eyes like flint, betraying nothing – regarded him coolly.

"My orders are not open for discussion. My orders will be obeyed immediately, if not at a set time. It is not your place, James, to question them. If you do not understand, ask, and I will listen to your questions or concerns, and explain. I expect a delay like this will not be repeated in the future."

The silence was tangible.

"On the bed, _now_."

Kirk flinched, but went. He slunk onto the bed, his back to the headboard. He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he battled his nerves. It was minutes before Kirk saw Spock move out of the corner of his eye.

Spock slipped the silken sash from around his waist. Kirk tensed, but Spock opened a sliding drawer with a push of his finger and let the silk fall in.

Kirk's heart sped as Spock continued to undress in front of him. Down to his black boxers and undershirt, Spock hesitated before taking sleeping pants from a drawer and pulling them on. Spock was still, once again, examining Kirk for his own purposes. He then began, slowly and deliberately, to walk around him.

Anticipation felt like a drug in Kirk's system, only thicker, more potent. His heart, fast and furious and out of control, only sped the poison's rapid consumption of his body. If Spock forced him… he couldn't defend himself if he tried.

_Spock, _my_ Spock. _Suddenly, almost as if he had always been there, the essence of _his _Spock surrounded him, secure and unflinching. Kirk felt his heartbeat calm minutely.

The seconds ticked by as Kirk tried to hold onto the comforting presence of his Spock as he heard the immediate Spock quietly positioned himself on the bed.

He jumped, all the same, when Spock's arms slid around him and tightened before he had a chance to consider moving. And then Spock's knees were on either side on him, locking him in.

Kirk actively worked to gather himself. His breathing was out of control. He fought the sense of rising panic. Well, no, his panic was already pretty high. He felt like punching Spock in the nose. He wanted to see green blood _gush _from the man who dared assert authority over him. He wanted to see Spock _writhe _in agony_._

"Shhhhh," Spock hushed. Cool breath ghosted across his shoulder, but Kirk could only stare straight ahead, his eyes wide and fingers twitching.

"Your pulse is much too high. Control yourself."

Kirk clenched his jaw, his anger spiking at the sheer _audacity_—

To his surprise, Spock started to massage his shoulders. His hands pinched tight muscle and he ground into the tense curvature of Kirk's back with professional ease.

And slowly, the steady action of Spock's hands began to lull Kirk into an – if only temporary – state of relaxation.

Friction, and his own warm body, heated Spock's hands, and soon Kirk almost forgot where he was. Almost forgot _whose _hands were on him.

Dizzy and tired, Kirk wasn't able to react fast enough when cool fingers met his temple and he was thrust into his own mind.

He screamed in the silence as all sense of light and touch were snuffed out like candle flame. The darkness was absolute. His mind buzzed as he tried to catch up, to _understand_ what had just happened. It felt like a dream he was aware of. And – _Spock_. His Spock was there, of course he was. But why… something was off. He wanted Spock, wanted to be with him but something…

_Are you…?_

He couldn't see into the dark looming mind, this _sense _of Spock. But something was different. It _felt _like Spock, and then it didn't.

_No. _

He was in a mind-meld, he just… couldn't remember with whom. Not his Spock, not him. It was someone else. Kirk withdrew his searching presence around the mind, the _foreign _mind. It wasn't human, that much he could tell.

_You are not Spock. _

He couldn't help his mental voice; his thoughts were as clear as if he had verbalized them.

_Why are you here? – What do you want? You're… not right. _

The mind was silent, filling Kirk with a sense of deep foreboding. Like a tumour, it was cancerous; a bubble of parasitic energy trapped in the center of his thoughts. He couldn't escape it. It would overwhelm him, it…

At the back of his mind, he felt a little of his Spock's energy again... that lingering piece of his bondmate that never really disappeared. Kirk smiled. That was the right Spock, reassuring him, at least, a part of him was still his. Not _invaded_.

This _mind – _it wasn't Spock, he was sure of that. But it was something… similar. Darker. How it could be so similar,he wasn't sure.

It was so gradual Kirk was hardly aware of it, but the invading mind started to slowly morph, and expand. The walls between him and it became less pronounced. Kirk stumbled back nervously, quickening his retreat with each passing moment.

Only, he couldn't escape it. The _thing _kept coming. And coming. And then he could feel him as if they were touching. As if their minds were together, side-by-side.

This was not an unknown entity. This was—

An imposter_._

_Devil._

_Thief – Alien – Intruder! Get out_ _of my _head! Kirk shouted with all the energy he could muster, sending his mind into chaos as instinct took over. This was _that _Spock_ – _the evil Spock. The one who was _Spock_ but not. He had the likeness of Spock but was deeply twisted in a way he couldn't even comprehend—

He was _wrong._

_Hate_ _– disgust – revulsion – resentment – loathing. _All of Jim's built up anger towards Spock exploded in a rush he couldn't have controlled if he tried.

Spock pushed back as he was attacked by Kirk's subconscious.

_You think you can just come in here and mess with my mind? Who do you fucking _think you are?_ You can take me away from my ship and tie me down – drug me for all I know – but you do _not _have the right to do this. Leave me _the fuck_—_

In a blast of excruciating sound and power, Kirk was knocked past thought, past everything. Spock suddenly surrounded him on all sides, pushing his voice _down, down, down _– he fought for all he was worth, but Spock took hold of his mind, grasped _him _in the powerful claws of his Vulcan mind. Kirk struggled, but the forceful rush of feelings and thoughts enveloped him, _crushed_ him.

_No!_

_Stop fighting me, Jim._

For a fraction of a second Kirk paused, thrown off from hearing Spock in his head.

_Never, _he bit out.

A cool sensation wafted over Jim like chloroform, and before he registered it, his actions slowed. _What is that? What's happening? What are you doing to me? _Kirk growled, his mind sluggish and unresponsive. He was barely aware of Spock, talking without sound, all over him, slipping in and around_ – _his mind, his memories.

_Never is a long time to wait, James. I do not have forever. You will cease. This will be easier if you listen and cooperate. It will all be over and you will have your control back if you simply _give yourself to me. _Jim. Give yourself to me _now.

Spock's powerful mental voice echoed around Kirk like thunder heard from a distance, the implication silent and impending. The beginnings of a storm.

_I can't _do_ that…_

_You can._

_You… he… you can't – take him…_

Kirk struggled to think clearly. Something about _Spock…_

A smattering of love and affection illuminated Kirk's mind, dulling Spock for a minute as he groggily remembered everything that _his Spock _meant. Similar, to this person, but different. _Confusion. Yes, no… _Spock_. Don't leave me. Don't go. Where are you? You said you'd never leave… you abandoned me when you said… promised…_

And then Kirk's train of thought twisted and cleared, focused on Spock. Anger sparked as Kirk realized _the alien_ had been listening. He had been the one to take him away from _his_ Spock.

_Let me go. _

Kirk felt drained, as if his energy had been partially sapped from him. He was more wary and bitter, confused and tired, than anything.

_Who is Spock to you? _Spock asked quietly, a deadly undertone in his voice.

Kirk hesitated before the numbness pushed an answer out of him.

_T'hy'la. _

He forced himself not to think about _his Spock_ any longer. Spock was doing that, forcing it out of him.

_Fuck you._

_Are you bonded, Jim?_

_No! I don't know anything about—_

_You are. He is with you, here. He is connected to you._

For the first time, Kirk felt real anger come from Spock. He stayed quiet and cautiously gave Spock a wide berth. He couldn't hear Spock's thoughts, but he felt his emotions as if they were his own. Spock's anger annoyed him – he was angry because of _his connection_ with his Spock. Why? Why was that so important?

_Why do you care? _Kirk hissed.

Cold instinct – _Vulcan_ instinct – met him. Spock was seething behind his barriers, finally knowing the full truth. He did not respond.

_Well, good. _Kirk didn't care if Spock could hear him.

_Can't take that, Spock? Do you not approve of me having a bond_ _with the alternate you? _Thin humour coloured Kirk's tone as he sought to find Spock's weak spot.

To his satisfaction, something more than irritation flared behind Spock's barrier. It only fueled the fire that was Kirk's immediate mind.

_You're afraid. What – you don't want Spock to have a bond with me? You hate it. Because… you're jealous. You want me_ _to _love_ you. Am I right, Spock? _Kirk snickered._ I can't believe this. I can't believe _you_._

Kirk's laughter faded and he swallowed a seed of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Spock had earned this.

Strangely, Spock had become almost invisible behind the barrier. He was there; Kirk could still feel him. The sensation he had felt before had dwindled to practically nothing, but he was there.

Kirk stayed completely still. His mind was empty as he waited for Spock. Would he explode? Attack him? Why was he hiding? _Come on, do your worst_.

Instead, Spock came out in a cold rush. He brushed past Kirk and sped down into the dark recesses of his mind. Kirk rushed to catch up, internal alarms frantically ringing in his ears.

_Spock, what are you doing?_

Spock ignored him.

It did not take long for Spock to find what he was looking for. When Kirk realized what it was they had arrived at, he suddenly felt a suffocating sensation emerge from the dark of his chest.

_No. _

_Spock!_ Kirk addressed this Spock in frenzied distress. Spock couldn't go near _him_. He couldn't touch_ his _Spock_._

_Spock, I'm sorry! I'll listen to you – whatever you want – I never meant any of it just—_

Spock paused just outside the fragile bond, his harmful energy already searing the walls_ – _coating those _precious _memories with the poison of his soul.

_Get away from that. _Kirk snarled instinctively.

As a mist of indifferent thought, Spock began inserting himself into the bond, pushing it apart as he went – it was really only a barrier around a collection of memories; strong, but not complete. Things were dissolving. _The exact colour of Spock's skin. A memory from years ago, treasured though brief. A whispered promise_. Gone, before Kirk had a chance to realize it. They were gone. In horror, Kirk watched them go and desperately tried to reach out for them but couldn't. _Gone. _

A deep ache welled up in his heart. A crushing _need _burned his mind_ – stop him._

_Stop! _Kirk rushed to Spock. _Spock, listen! I was serious when I said I would listen to you – I will. I won't fight you anymore. Believe me, please_._ I promise – I promise. My word. I give you _my word_. _

Spock paused; Kirk could feel his mind working. He opened himself up a little more.

_I'm not lying. I don't have…_

If that's what it took to keep his Spock with him… he wouldn't—

He wouldn't fight. It wasn't worth it.

And then, a weight on Kirk lifted – a weight he hadn't even been aware of. It was almost… relieving.

Spock hovered just outside his mind, watching, before he slowly started to inspect Kirk. He breached the barrier between them, as if there had never been one in the first place. Kirk didn't try to stop him.

Kirk thought clearly, though guardedly. He pushed _his _Spock back in his mind, hoping Spock would forget about him. And even if Spock could hear his hesitation about allowing him access to those memories, he wasn't angry about it. Kirk didn't challenge that acceptance; he couldn't help feeling defensive about his Spock. This Spock couldn't force him to feel a certain way. But if this Spock was willing to negotiate a cease fire_ – _his bond with Spock in exchange for his obedience_ – _he didn't have much choice.

_You speak the truth._

Kirk silently assented, barely able to vocalize it, even in the freedom of his mind. Even there, he wasn't so free after all.

_I do not doubt you, James. However, I did not enter your mind with the sole purpose of eradicating your bond with my counterpart._

Kirk flinched.

_I will create a link between us—_

_What? _Kirk mentally stumbled_._

Spock's silence was a warning, and Kirk squashed his words. He altered his thoughts and buried the rebellion in the back of his mind. A bond? That was crazy. And wrong. And _traitorous_ – but...

_I'm sorry. I…_

_I understand your aversion to the idea, but you must believe me when I say I will not overwhelm you. You will only feel my presence if I have need of you, and you will be aware, any time I wish to access your thoughts. You will not oppose me when I enter your mind, and anything I wish to know you will divulge without question or hesitation. Is this clear?_

Kirk didn't respond immediately, the immense confusion spinning his mind. He was about to promise this person his complete obedience. It didn't make sense, but it did. His Spock was on the line. His memories, his bond, _his reason for living_, all were about to be held hostage. To save them, all he had to say was—

Yes.

_Yes_.

Kirk held a wave of helpless agony at bay, keeping it from Spock as best he could.

In response, Spock closed in on him, gently, but firmly, wrapping his thoughts around him. Constricting and expanding in successive beats, not going _through _him, but around him so tightly it became fuzzy who was who.

And Kirk could _feel _Spock, not his thoughts, but a vague sense of his mood – so intense behind the cold wall of control – more and more until Kirk knew it was permanent. It was close to what had existed between him and his Spock; a bright and powerful feeling of _the other. _

It did not dissipate when Spock began to fade, it only dulled. It was there, just hidden. Like a thought forgotten. If he or Spock used it... well, Spock would know if _he_ used it, but he had no idea if Spock told the truth, if he would sense it if the Vulcan spied on his thoughts. Not that he had a say in the matter. Spock could be lying through his teeth and it wouldn't change anything.

And then Kirk was alone.

But, not _completely_ alone.

The world was coming back, he was aware of his limbs and gravity and blood that pounded against his temples. But – _wait_ – everything was fading, falling into darkness again. He didn't want that but couldn't fight it… didn't… _want_ to fight it.

As the cool embrace of sleep took him, Kirk's thoughts flickered to _something _out of place. Something _watching _him, in the back of his mind.

Coldly satisfied and somehow—

_faintly_…

curious.

* * *

Kirk pulled at the sheets and curled up on himself as Spock ended the meld and sent the human into an induced sleep.

"_Spock. Don't_ – let me – not—" Kirk mumbled, trailing off as his body slackened. His eyes flickered gently.

Spock watched him for several minutes, monitoring Kirk's frantic mind as it was forced to settle.

Thoughtfully, Spock ran a hand through Kirk's damp, golden hair. The human shifted fitfully under him and Spock found himself wishing he could calm Kirk instead of creating a battle within him, even if it was to ensure the necessary rest.

Most of the time, Spock strove to be certain. Logic dictated one course, or the other. This was one time he was blatantly bending logic. In favour of protection. Certainty was only possible when you lived in a certain environment. He did not. He could not be sure Kirk would have been able to survive if he had allowed him freedom. And he had not anticipated his… attraction, to Kirk. To his physical form, yes, for being identical to his mate's, but there was a similarity in spirit, a willfulness there he felt needed him. To tame it. To answer it's call, to match it in some way.

The life-force that was Jim Kirk. He hadn't been able to resist… and he couldn't change that now. He would not willingly hand Kirk over to Decker. He would find another way.

Kirk stirred, and Spock let his hand fall so as not to wake him.

Spock left in a hurry, plans already taking shape within his mind. Decker was a problem that needed to be dealt with. He cursed himself for the late realization. He would not willingly jeopardize Kirk's life.

He just hoped he was not too late.


End file.
